


Sick in the Head

by HolyCoconut



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Air-Pollution, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Character Death, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Contamination, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, It's heating up now fellas, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Pandemics, Pre-Apocalypse, Road Trips, Ship is kinda background for a bit because the kids are too busy grieving, Slow Burn, Survival, Trans Character, Unrequited Love, Violence, but not for long, love square
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 27,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCoconut/pseuds/HolyCoconut
Summary: I felt bad for staring, but the boy stuck out like a sore thumb. The only other thing that made him stand out was the person he was sitting with. Something about them intrigued me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Perhaps I had zeroed in on the outcasts of school, like I do every time I move and reenroll somewhere else. It’s all become annoyingly predictable, and I guess I just want something fresh, different.---no one wants to read this but whatever yeehaw





	1. Something Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you wear that mask on your face.” I say rather eloquently, looking pointedly at Evan. The blond points to himself and tilts his head.  
> “Me?” He says loudly, jabbing the middle of his chest with his finger once in confusion.  
> “Yeah. Do you have an ugly ass scar under it or something?” Way to go Jared, fucking it up superbly yet again. I may have gone through this a hundred times before, but I never said I learned from my mistakes.

The mask folded neatly around his mouth, bending into three folds, over his nose, mouth, and chin. The metal bit on the top was pinched so viciously the mask was forced into a sharp triangle, indenting severely on his cheeks. His nose twitched, shifting the mask to the left. The boy’s gloved hands came up to quickly readjust it, the cotton fabric bending to indicate a sharp intake of breath. I felt bad for staring, but the boy stuck out like a sore thumb. His blond hair is messy and curled, with hints of dark brown behind his ears. There was hardly an inch of revealed skin, his hands concealed by powdery light blue latex gloves, arms covered by a large baggy light gray sweater, legs and feet drowning in khaki pants that seemed to pool onto the floor. In fact, I could barely make out what kind of shoes he was wearing. The only other thing that made him stand out was the person he was sitting with.

The blond’s desk was pushed all the way into the corner of the classroom, and there was only one person sitting within 5 feet of him. The other person, looked masculine, but his hair was shoulder length and messy, but not in the tragic, pathetic way the blond’s hair was. It was more like ‘I haven’t showered in three days and I don’t intend to anytime soon.’ The possibly boy was also frighteningly pale, like he’d disappear if you shined a light on his skin. He also wore long sleeves, but no gloves. Instead, he had a whole arm full of cheap leather and plastic bracelets, varying from black to dark brown. I took my seat in the back, across from them. Something about them intrigued me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Perhaps I had zeroed in on the outcasts of school, like I do every time I move and reenroll somewhere else.

Minutes passed and the lesson started. The teacher did what the overenergetic ones always do, ask what you did that summer, and go around the room as an ice-breaker. Eventually it got to the blond, who cleared his throat, once, twice.

“I’m, I’m Evan and I… helped my mom in the hospital.” His voice is very deep, which is shocking, and he seems unreasonably nervous to be here. Or maybe I have just gone through this charade one too many times and became numb to it all. Everyone’s gaze falls on Evan’s companion, who looks, frankly, very bored.

“I’m Connor. Does sleep count as an activity?” His voice is dry and flat, like he isn’t joking and actually slept all of summer. Judging by the bags under his eyes, I would guess he hadn’t slept a wink in days.

Then everyone is looking at me. “I’m Jared. This summer I moved here from Texas.”

People as always, seem unreasonably interested in Texas and every other place I move from. It’s all become annoyingly predictable, and I guess I just want something fresh, different. Maybe those two outcasts can provide me with it, if I talk to them.

“Why do you wear that mask on your face.” I say rather eloquently, looking pointedly at Evan. The blond points to himself and tilts his head.

“Me?” He says loudly, jabbing the middle of his chest with his finger once in confusion.

“Yeah. Do you have an ugly ass scar under it or something?” Way to go Jared, fucking it up superbly yet again. I may have gone through this a hundred times before, but I never said I learned from my mistakes.

“No.” That came from Connor, who scoffed at the very idea. Interesting that he answered for him.

“Okay.” I respond, turning away. Silence, in a conversation, is sometimes your best friend. Social norm makes them feel as though they must fill the gap for you.

“I just don’t want to get sick. I have a fragile immune system and it’s whooping cough season.” Evan rambles, brushing his fingers through the hair sticking up behind his head. Hook, line, and sinker. Okay, what to say next?

“Whooping cough?” I say curiously, as if I, a boy nearly 18 years of age, has no idea what whooping cough is. I’m not an idiot, but in order to get that different I want, I need to instigate this more. Make them want to speak to me. 

“Are you stupid?” Again, Connor answers for him. Seems like an unbalanced power dynamic. That or Evan asked Connor to speak for him in uncomfortable social situations. I glance down where the blond is furiously rubbing his palms against his pants, despite wearing gloves over them. Yeah, the second guess was the best bet.

“Probably.” Dropping the silence and,

“Connor! He doesn’t mean that he just um,” Evan tries in vain to defend his… friend? Connor’s hand sweeps across the desk to hold onto Evan’s hand.

“It’s alright, he’s not wrong I mean,” I point at myself as if to say, ‘Look at this, stupid written all over it’ and try to smile as friendly as possible. In the middle of gesturing, my glasses slide down my nose and I pause to push them back up.

Thick silence passes over all three of them. I cough.

Evan’s pupils go from somewhat large to tiny. He turns away from me and pulls a hand sanitizer out of his bag. The blond’s hand is wrestled from the other boy’s grip and he applies the gel to his gloved palms. Then he covers his mouth with one, turning stiffly in the other direction of me.

“It was a fake cough. To indicate social awkwardness. I was going to follow it up with saying ‘Well,’ and turning back toward the white board.”

A loud laugh breaks free from Connor’s mouth suddenly, and he tries in vain to stop it, snorting quietly. Evan has relaxed a little and is giggling quietly. Or something. I’m not sure what noise he’s making, I can’t see his lips.

“Deadass?”

“Deadass.” I say, trying to be loud and distorted without alerting the teacher. Connor’s posture relaxes and tension leaks from Evan’s shoulders, the blond leaning all the way back in his chair. I smile at them and Connor laughs beneath his breath, his nose crinkling and his eyes squinting a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back for a little bit. I've wanted to write this for a while (since 2016, genuinely :/) and I figured it might help me out of my 'funk'. Writing usually helps me vent anyway. For those wondering about The Art of Pleasing Others, I have no idea when I'm going to update. I'm not going to hiatus it or abandon it because I hold that one very close to my heart but I have no clue when I'll get the motivation to finish it.  
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 3/28/19


	2. Something Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Attention all students and faculty, the pipes are currently being removed and replaced so be sure to bring your own water to school. We apologize for the inconvenience.**  
>  “No… this is so weird.” It can’t just be coincidence anymore.  
> “What’s weird?”  
> “Well, every school I’ve been in had this problem. Something was always wrong with the water and pipes.”

I don’t try to talk to anyone else. I know making friends is futile considering I’ll probably move in a month or so but it’s nice to pretend, at least for a little while. I’ve found that Evan is incredibly skittish, and his eyes constantly dart from one end of the room to the next when talking. At first, I thought it was due to some discomfort in the conversation, but it seems like any topic makes him do that. He also doesn’t like direct eye contact from anyone, not even Connor.

Apparently the two boys had grown up together since preschool, and their moms had been family friends ever since. They also don’t appear to have any other friends but that was to be expected. I guess it just makes my search for something new easier.

I go through my daily schedule and find that one or both of them are consistently in the same class as me. Math with Connor, Sciences with Evan, Visual arts and Homeroom with both, and English with Connor. Every time without fail, they sit in the way back. The only difference is people treat Connor like he has the plague and Evan treats everyone _but_ Connor like they have the plague. Connor seems to be the only one allowed in his personal space and I can’t think of a good enough reason for why.

“So,” I start casually in Visual Arts, “Are y’all fucking or something?”

Connor, who was drinking water, choked. Evan turned red and started stumbling over his words. This only strengthened my theory, honestly.

“I was right then?” I say with a grin, wiggling my eyebrows.

“N-NO I MEAN-” Evan sputters, and is promptly asked to lower his volume by their teacher. He quits defending himself and I see him pulling at loose threads in the hem of his cotton sweater.

“Even if we were dating and wanted to, Evan is a major germaphobe. I don’t think he could handle a dick inside him,”

“Who said I was the bottom in our hypothetical relationship?” Evan interrupts, his eyebrows furrowed. I suspect he’s pouting behind the mask.

“Oh, really like _you’d_ top _me_.” Connor snarks. They go back and forth about it for a while, Evan trying to defend his own masculinity and Connor bringing up the fact that he’s too small and vanilla to top.

“Wow I’m so convinced you don’t suck each other’s dicks. Bravo.” I clap slowly, to show they’ve basically confirmed my suspicions. Both of their faces turn bright red and I smile.

“Okay but you agree with me.” Connor said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“That Evan can’t top? Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night emo boy.”

…

**Attention all students and faculty, the pipes are currently being removed and replaced so be sure to bring your own water to school. We apologize for the inconvenience.**

“Can you believe they haven’t fixed that yet?” Evan asks quietly. I shake my head.

“No… this is so weird.” It can’t just be coincidence anymore.

“What’s weird?” Evan tilts his head. He removes his gloves and applies sanitizer to his hands, pulls on another pair, and his mask is adjusted. Every morning without fail.

“Well, every school I’ve been in, in the past four years had this problem. Something was always wrong with the water and bathrooms.” That can’t be unrelated. First New York, then Michigan, Arizona, Oregon, Illinois, Texas, and now California.

“I don’t know anything about that, but California has been in a drought for fifteen years now,” Evan scratches at his neck nervously. “Water’s always a problem here.”

“Seems like it’s been a problem everywhere nowadays.” I sniff. 

“Yeah well, c’est la vie.” Evan’s accent is perfect, and I smile.

“Do you take French?” Conversation is led elsewhere and the issues with water leaves my mind. It was probably just a coincidence like Evan said.

English is next, and I spot Connor playing with a strand of his hair, pulling it out to straighten it and letting it go, watching it bounce back into shape. The stray stands and split ends rest against his forehead, his eyes trained on his fingers.

I take my seat beside him, and again, there’s a reminder announcement that the bathrooms have been fenced off and shouldn’t be used.

“God, they must’ve done this at least twenty times now.” Connor grumbles, blowing a loose strand of his hair out of his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, uninterested now. The topic bored me a bit, and the only thing that concerned me at this point was asking my moms to buy water bottles for school tonight.

“Yeah. I hate using the stupid port-a-potties. Once I was in one and some asshole tried to push it over.” Connor recounts this memory bitterly, his nose scrunching up in anger. I notice his hands are fiddling with his bracelets.

“People are really that bad here?” Aren’t private schools in California supposed to be progressive or something? That’s what they advertise.

Connor snorts, his eyebrows tilting down and squinting his eyes. “They’re shitty if you’re _me._ ”

I choose to be silent and stare at the white board. Class hasn’t even started yet, so I read the date written at the top over and over. There wasn’t even a schedule on the board but then, not every teacher does that.

“You don’t deserve all that you know.” I say beneath my breath.

Connor blinks and his eyes are shiny at the edges when he looks at me. Something changes in his posture, but he doesn’t say anything. Guess he’s not used to blunt compliments or validation. It would make sense considering Evan is the type to skirt around a topic or question for an hour before saying something vague.

The five-minute bell rings and I drag out my lap top, plugging my head phones in. I type random letters into a word document when lecture starts, and then I pull up the Bee Movie. My parents probably regret setting up a Hulu account for me, since all I use it for is boring classes.

“…can I watch?” Connor murmurs quietly, eyes trained on the teacher. I hand him an ear bud and he snickers to himself at the cheesiness and cringe of the movie. Note to self: Connor likes really, really bad comedies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up gamers my mental health is deteriorating *insert rad and interesting emoji here*.
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 4/4/19


	3. I Carried You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Do you have any grey sweaters and khakis?**  
>  ‘ **…lemme check.** ’  
> In ten minutes, we have all the things Evan wears every day, along with small hand sanitizers that clip to backpacks. Connor sends his address and I don’t know why it makes my heart stutter in my chest. He tells me to drive over tomorrow morning before school and I try not to sound too excited when I agree to.

Evan was a weird person, there was no doubt about that. Always uptight, always fidgeting in his seat, like the surface was disgusting. He has trouble touching anything, even with gloves on, and seems to hate just being.

“Is the air like, gross to you?” I ask, gesturing around us. His desk is five feet away from mine, and he gets uncomfortable when I get close. I try not to take it personally, but some days it’s hard.

“The air?” Evan repeats, one eyebrow quirked up.

“Yeah, like do you have a problem with it touching your mouth or something?”

Evan is quiet and reaches up to adjust his light blue cotton mask. “I don’t like the sensation of breathing that much is all.”

That… sounds a bit like a death wish. Evan seems to realize this and shakes his hands at me. “Not that I want to _stop breathing or anything,_ ”

I raise a palm and smile, letting him know he doesn’t need to worry. “It’s alright, I get it in a way.”

Evan’s hands suddenly close, suspended outward. It looks a little awkward, but he doesn’t move to draw his arms back.

“You do?” He says curiously. I wonder if I should feed this behavior by agreeing with it, but he’s kind of right in a way.

“Yeah. Like the pollution and all, entering my lungs.”

“Yes exactly! And all the dust,” Evan scrunches his nose up. “Sometimes I want to fuckin’ drink hand sanitizer or something-“

I almost reach out and touch his shoulder, but instead I drop my hand down on my desk to get his attention. “For the love of all that is holy, _Do not._ ”

Evan’s cheeks, from what I can see, turn red in embarrassment.

“Right, yeah, I was just joking I would never do that.” He rambles, a gloved hand coming up to scratch his neck. My eyes unconsciously follow the movement, and then I notice a gold and silver ring around his neck on a thin chain.

“Hey what’s that from?” I point at it, interrupting his mini monologue about never ingesting pure alcohol. “Did you and Connor get married or something stupid?” I chuckle, refraining from reaching to touch it for a closer look.

Evan looks down at the ring and his shoulders square. “…It’s my great-grandmother’s baby spoon. My grandfather welded it into a ring.” He tilts it and I see little footprints walking along the outside, and words etched on the inside.

“What’s it say?” I ask, looking up at him curiously. He seems tense, like he’s said this before, possibly too many times.

“’It was then that I carried you,’” He mumbles, looking away from my eyes. I smile in response to the phrase.

“Cute.” I say simply. Somehow that makes the boy incredibly flustered, and he taps his pointer fingers together in front of himself nervously. 

…

The walk home was uneventful, up until I noticed the ER across the street was jam packed with cars. All the nurses are wearing masks and gloves like Evan. The sight makes me feel uncomfortably exposed, so I take a short detour.

There’s a box of masks beside the door, and it’s full to the brim. There’s also a small table beside it with small hand sanitizers, chap stick, coupons for CVS medicine, and the standard blue gloves. I take two pairs of gloves and two masks, pulling out my phone. I only have twenty contacts, but the most recent ones are Connor and Evan. I didn’t add any emojis at first because I don’t know them well enough, but Evan said he wanted a bee next to his name.

I tap on Connor’s contact and start a text conversation.

**Hey, do you want to surprise Evan tomorrow?**

He responds with ‘ **sorry, who is this?** ’

I message my name with a ‘>:/’ beside it. Connor texts back eagerly and asks what I meant.

I send a picture of the masks and gloves with the smiling devil emoji ironically.  
**Do you have any grey sweaters and khakis?**

‘ **…lemme check.** ’  
In ten minutes, we have all the things Evan wears every day, along with small hand sanitizers that clip to backpacks. Connor sends his address and I don’t know why it makes my heart stutter in my chest. He tells me to drive over tomorrow morning before school and I try not to sound too excited when I agree to.

Despite the prank, I’ve planned with Connor, there’s an itch in the back of my head that tells me something is very wrong.

…

“Did you hear the news yesterday?” My mom, Sharon, asks my other mom, Laura. Course I just call them Mama and Ima respectively.

“No, what happened? Did the president tweet about his massive wang again?” Ima says dryly, taking a long sip of her coffee.

“Of course, he did but that’s besides the point. Apparently, the air pollution percentage has gone up.”

I grab a piece of toast while they’re talking, trying to eat quickly so I can get to Connor’s on time.

“Is it still safe?”

“They said so, but I’m not sure.” Mama says, pouring herself a glass of iced tea. I can’t hear much of their conversation due to how loud I’m chewing, which is commented on by Ima immediately.

“Honestly Jared, we didn’t raise you to eat with your mouth open.” She says with annoyance, crossing her arms. Then she glances down at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be going soon?”

I open my phone and nearly choke. The bright white numbers tell me I’m gonna be late, and that’s quickly added to with a short text from Connor, saying he’s awake. I get out of my chair so fast that it clatters against the floor, dragging my backpack from beside the front door.

“Have a nice day,” Mama’s positivity is cut off by me slamming the door and running to my car in the driveway.

When I arrive at Connor’s house, the other boy practically drags me in. I’m handed the clothes and I give him a mask and gloves in return. The drive to school is spent snickering at what Evan’s face is going to look like when we show up.

“He’s gonna freak,” Connor says with a laugh, his voice being muffled by the cloth around his face, and I laugh with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the chapters seem so short! Trust me, the story is longer than it looks at the moment. I currently have 21 chapters written, edited, and filed away so updating shouldn't be a problem!  
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 4/11/19


	4. Haven't You Heard?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I spend the rest of my day staring out the windows, noticing the thick smog is lower to the ground than it normally is. I trace the clouds with my eyes, completely bored with class. Visual Arts is nothing but a little certificate to give to colleges to prove that you’re interesting. I’m never going to college.  
> At least not at the rate I’m going with two D’s, an F, and C’s making up the rest of my report card. Hopefully by the end of the semester I’ll be able to care more but right now, everything fades into the background.

Naturally, when Connor and I arrive in homeroom, Evan is sitting in the back of the room. Unlike his normal blue cotton mask, he’s wearing one of the thick paper white ones, shaped like a cup over his nose and mouth. His eyes are covered with thin visor like goggles and he’s wheezing for air. Connor pulls his own mask from his nose and lets it rest below his chin, his eyes filled with worry.

He walks away from my side and crosses the room in large strides to kneel beside Evan’s seat. Connor takes Evan’s hands and I can hear soft murmurs from Connor’s end and slightly frantic rambling from Evan’s. I follow suit but keep my distance. I know Evan is not comfortable around me and he probably never will be.

“What happened?” Connor whispers, reaching up to rest his hand on Evan’s cheek. The blond is stiff, and his breathing is erratic. The itch at the back of my head comes back full force. The goggles Evan is wearing have air vents on them, but they have been tightly shut and glued over. Upon further inspection I notice something clear under the mask on Evan’s face.

“Evan… did you tape it to your skin?” I ask quietly.

Connor’s eyebrows pinch together in worry, and his hand sweeps down to feel for it, causing Evan to jump in his seat.

“DON’T!” The shout is so loud Connor leans back, eyes wide. Evan’s hands are shaking horribly, and I see his eyes glisten and then squint until they nearly close. Evan has very narrow eyes and sometimes you can hardly see the blue in them.

“I. I’m sorry,” Evan says quietly, his body trembling. I don’t have to turn around to know nearly everyone in class is staring at us. School hasn’t even started, and I’ve already fucked up. Why do I try again? 

“didn’t you hear?” Evan’s voice is shaking just like his shoulders and hands.

Connor is right back to holding him steady while I stand by, watching.

“Hear what, Ev?” Connor asks, squeezing his hands. A bottle of water rolls down another student’s desk.

“Pollution, there’s so much, twenty percent,” Evan’s sentences are fragmented and my heart aches a little hearing it.

“Evan, try and breathe okay? Do you need some water-?”

“No!”

‘ _That was clearly the wrong suggestion…_ ’ I think to myself with a wince. Evan starts rambling about lead in water and corroded pipes. I barely notice the bell over it. A minute passes, and we’re asked to step outside. Connor and Evan follow me, both of them holding identical yellow slips in their hands.

Evan still hasn’t calmed down all the way, but Connor manages to convince him to take the tape off his bare skin and loosen the goggles around his face. They leave a red imprint behind on his freckled skin, and again I can do nothing about it. 

It takes a while, but eventually Evan is breathing evenly. Then, his eyes squint at our outfits.

“Did you dress as me?” He asks with a faded, hazy look in his eyes. Had I not spent the last hour watching him come out of a panic attack, I would’ve assumed he was high or possibly drunk. Wait, would Evan drink? Never mind, that’s a thought for later.

“Yeah, do you like it?” I ask as smugly as humanly possible. Evan’s only response is a little crinkle of his nose and furrowed eyebrows. Connor bursts out laughing and takes Evan’s hand.

“Don’t pout!” He says, “Aren’t you glad? We can be cute like you now!”

Judging by the way Connor blushes and blurts ‘uh’ after, he didn’t mean to let that slip.

“Y-You think I’m cute?” Evan asks nervously, his other hand fiddling with his hair. Connor lets go of his hand and looks down at the ground.

“I mean, um yeah,” he responds, and I turn around dramatically with my arms in the air.

“Pardon me, I don’t want to third wheel while you suck each other’s dicks–” 

Evan yelps and Connor smacks me for ‘ruining the moment.’

They hold hands the rest of the day and I feel choked up. Of course, logically I know I am just the new kid. They’ve known each other for years and I just showed up recently. No amount of jokes can make me as important.

The other two boys try to engage me in conversation the entire rest of the day, but I brush them off. A simple ‘I’m tired’ makes up for it.  
Later in the day, Evan takes the goggles off at Connor and I’s insistence, and I hand him a normal blue mask. I look away when he changes the white one out, and then he applies hand sanitizer again.

“Thanks.” He says softly, adjusting and pinching the metal bit. “I’m still mad that you dressed as me though.”

“Come on you have to admit it looks really funny.” I say, putting my hands on my waist. “It’s like looking a fat fun house mirror, huh?”

That gets a laugh and I smile proudly to myself. I mean, the fat comment stung even though I made it myself, but if I can get their attention for longer than a minute I’m satisfied.

I spend the rest of my day staring out the windows, noticing the thick smog is lower to the ground than it normally is. I trace the clouds with my eyes, completely bored with class. Visual Arts is nothing but a little certificate to give to colleges to prove that you’re interesting. I’m never going to college.

At least not at the rate I’m going with two D’s, an F, and C’s making up the rest of my report card. Hopefully by the end of the semester I’ll be able to care more but right now, everything fades into the background.

…

“Are you doing anything after school?” Connor’s voice cuts through my clouded thoughts and I blink, looking up at him.

“Don’t you want to go over to Evan’s and make out or something?” I raise my eyebrows. Connor’s face and ears redden significantly.

“Well, I’m not saying I _don’t_ want to, but I was thinking we could… hang out?” Connor’s voice is choked up and I realize he doesn’t usually have the privilege of asking many people that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow just kidding, I have absolutely no self-control. You're welcome, I'm probably gonna post the next chapter way sooner than I should as well.  
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
>  _Next Chapter_ : 4/11/19


	5. "Natural Causes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you mean?” I ask cautiously, glad I’m still wearing my backpack in case I need to book it. “Did you want to do a weird sex thing or,”  
> “No, fuck Jared, not everything is about sex.” Connor pinches his nose, annoyed.

Connor waits for me at the school gate, and I nearly stop in my tracks when I see Evan beside him. They want me around? Why?

I glance down at their intertwined fingers and crinkle my nose. Do they just get kicks out of making me third wheel them? I walk a little slower than normal, looking them up and down. Evan’s clothes are rumpled, and Connor’s hair is messier, both of their faces are flushed down to their necks.

“Did y’all make out in a closet or something?” I say loudly as I approach. Evan blushes darkly and fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it down over his shirt. Connor looks embarrassed but then he blinks, his eyes squinting at me.

“ _Did you say y’all?_ ” Connor asks, tilting his head. 

My cheeks heat a little and I scoff. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Yank.” Connor smirks, pleased with himself that he found something to tease me about. Truthfully, I hadn’t noticed I developed an accent. Though we did stay in Texas for a while it wasn’t enough for my voice to change.

“Whatever.” I respond, sliding my hands into my pockets. “Where are we going, gamers?”

Connor and Evan look disgusted at the ‘gamers’ comment.

“My house.” The blond says, pulling and adjusting his gloves. I pause, biting the inside of my cheek.

“Are you sure you’d want me there?” Dammit Jared, stop being vulnerable. You should’ve made a sex joke instead!

“Yeah? Why?” Evan’s eyebrows are pinched together in confusion, his eyes nearly shut. I can’t make anything out in his eyes, but when I look at Connor, he just looks sad. The pale blue of the brunet’s eyes dimmed in an odd way, like paint that was watered down too much.

“Never mind.” I don’t bring up my suspicions of him not being comfortable with me or the fact that I might infect his home.

We walk to Evan’s home, and I get increasingly more concerned at our surroundings. The deeper we go down the street, the poorer the area is. Eventually we get to an apartment building, where a car was being covered with a white sheet right out front. Evan apologizes for me seeing it, and that’s when I realize a person in the car died. There was broken glass in the street, and a small hole was clean through the side window.

The person clearly didn’t die from natural causes, and I swallow. I turn around to watch Evan put in his key card instead. The door buzzes and he leads us through an apartment block. Connor obviously knows where he’s going, but I don’t expect him to lean over suddenly, digging in a bush.

“Connor?” I ask curiously. The brunet leans back up, but he has a big black cat in his arms. The cat seems well acquainted with him, rubbing into the pale boy’s neck. It appears to be a stray.

“You can pet him if you want.” Connor says, mistaking my staring for wanting to pet the cat.

“Uh, okay.” I reach out shakily. Cats are not usually fond of me. The kitty starts to purr and leans up to bump his ear against my palm. Half of the cat’s ear is missing, and his tail is scraggly. I let my shoulders relax and I scratch his head. “He’s cute.” I mutter, looking back up.

My breath catches at the sight of Connor’s proud and sweet smile.

“Do you want to come back down to feed Sox later?” Evan asks, nervously pulling his gloves down. Clearly the blond has no problems with the cat, but maybe he wasn’t that dirty? Maybe Evan’s OCD tendencies don’t apply to everything.

Or Connor just insisted, and Evan agreed after he proved the cat, Sox, was sweet. Maybe I’m just crazy and I think in hypotheticals too often.

Connor sets the kitty down after a few more pets, and when we start to walk again the cat trails after the two boys, mewing for attention. Connor looks incredibly saddened by leaving.

“Why don’t you adopt the cat if you love him so much?” I ask, lifting a hand out of my pocket to gesture as I speak.

“My mom is allergic, and my dad hates pets. He says it makes the house smell bad.” Connor seems angry and I clear my throat awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

_Touchy subject I guess…_

Evan’s apartment has two bedrooms, but when we walk into his room, I notice he has a cheap futon instead of a bed, with a crisp white sheet tucked tightly at the corners. He has a too small blanket wrapped over it and no pillows. That wasn’t the only strange thing about his apartment though. 

There are maps covering nearly every wall top to bottom. Some of them are of forest trails, but upon further inspection, I notice red marker on them with notes scrawled in messy cursive on the edges.

“I’m sorry um,” Evan starts, his voice especially muffled and quiet. “Truthfully we didn’t bring you here just to hang out.”

_Okay… that’s strange._

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously, glad I’m still wearing my backpack in case I need to book it. “Did you want to do a weird sex thing or,”

“No, fuck Jared, not everything is about sex.” Connor pinches his nose, annoyed.

“Okay this gonna sound crazy,” Evan starts, pulling a map of a generic forest down with a harshness I didn’t know he possessed. Beneath it, is a map of the water systems, and the city. “Isn’t it strange how these two things correlate? You said so in class but teachers don’t like us questioning it.”

Evan’s fingers sweep from red zones, and the poorer areas of California. Almost all of the red zones, meaning polluted water, matches up exactly with the poverty zones. I trace my eyes over our city, on the edge of a red highlight. I frown and that foreboding feeling at the back of my head comes back full force.

“Yo-You agree right? It’s not a coincidence?” Evan’s fingers are clasped in front of himself, watching me study the yellowed paper. 

“It’s not just California,” I say dryly. “Got a world map anywhere?”

Evan perks up and Connor walks across the room, opening Evan’s desk and pulling a coiled paper out of a drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally getting interesting lmao sorry for all the filler I had to do it to em  
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 4/18/19


	6. Devil's Advocate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Were you speaking Jewish?” The brunet blurts, sounding damn near excited and proud of himself that he guessed it. I nearly choke with how fast I laugh.  
> “Hebrew Connor… It’s Hebrew,” I wheeze. Connor looks ashamed and embarrassed, brushing his fingers through his hair.

I don’t ask why he has so many maps, that’s a question for later. I pin the world map above the California one, reaching behind myself. I pull a blue and red marker out of my backpack and circle all the states I’ve been to in blue. Then I go over the cities I lived in and circle the affected areas that I remember vaguely in red. It seems to center in the poorer cities first and then spread out. None of them seem to be isolated incidents and I cap my markers.

“This is bad.” I say quietly.

“No shit.” Connor snorts, but it lacks humor. “Ev and I started noticing it a few years ago.”

“So, what do you want me to do exactly? Help you with a science project based on little to no proof?” I ask, glancing back at them. Sure It was worded a little rudely, but someone has to be devil’s advocate. To be frank, there’s not much we could do about this, if the correlation isn’t a coincidence. It’s not a stretch, and the idea honestly terrifies me.

“It’s not a science project Jared! This could kill us!” Evan says frantically.

Something cold settles in my chest. _Kill us?_

Evan notices something on my face, so he continues. “Look, this is not just ‘bad,’ my mom is a nurse, and people are constantly coming in with the same symptoms. No one knows what it’s from but it’s not pretty. I suggested that it was from the water but.” Evan stops, and I see his throat move as he swallows hard. “They called me crazy. So, I shut up.”

I look at Connor too and he scoffs. “My parents laugh about me and my ‘little friend’ being conspiracy theorists at fancy dinner parties.”

California is harsh. If anything, Mama and Ima encourage strange ways of thinking.

I look back at the map and sigh, dropping my backpack.

“Let’s get searching then boys.” I try to smile, and it seems to work. Connor’s jaw untenses and Evan’s shoulders drop slowly. 

I sit down on the floor and tug my laptop out, searching for any statistics done. Surprise, surprise, they’ve all been completed by the government. “Seems like the president is trying to cover this shit up,” I sigh with annoyance, clicking away from yet another fake article.

“If you’re trying to look for any graphs or scholarly articles, you won’t find them.” Connor looks up from a book resting in his lap. “They’ve been trying to cover this up for years.”

“Guess we’ll have to be the first researchers then, huh?”

Evan and Connor smile at the idea, though Evan’s seems a little more nervous while Connor looks excited. After a while, I notice something in the corner of the California map, and I tap it curiously.

“What’s this?” Connor glances up at me.

“Santa Susana Field Lab.” Connor rattles off and then something clicks.

“Can I mark this shit up?” I ask, my red marker hovering over the Santa Susana lab. Evan nods and I try to make my circle neat.  
I research other affected areas and government owned property that is off limits to the public.

“Check it out, it makes a dick shape.” Connor gets up immediately when those words leave my mouth.

“No, it does not, are you shitting me?”

“Yeah, I am.” I say, pointing to the affected zones. They are all in the dead centers of each red highlight.

“Fuck how did we not notice this before?” He covers his mouth, something conflicted and stormy in his eyes.

“I mean, radiation is always dangerous. It makes sense.” I say, “Besides, this is a common theme. Most health problems usually have something to do with a government owned facility.”

“Is there anything else we could check for?” Connor asks and I think for a long minute.

“Maybe other states. Other countries.” I say simply, dropping back down to the floor to type into the search bar.

“How do you know exactly where to look?” I notice Evan is looking over my shoulder and I shrug.

“Lots of late-night researching. I get bored.”

“Yeah ‘researching.’ Sorry to break it to you Jared, but Pornhub isn’t research.”

“Shut up Mr. I fucked Evan in a closet.” I say back, typing furiously in order to get to the site I want. Anything that seems credible is copied and pasted into a separate word document. Connor and Evan don’t dignify my last comment with a response, and I smirk.

…

After a few hours I notice the sun had gone down past the horizon already. “Oh shit.” I mutter, pulling my phone from my pocket.

**1 missed call from Mama.**  
**5 missed calls from Ima.**

“Fuck.”  
“Is something wrong?” Evan asks, leaning up from where his head was laying in Connor’s lap. They were getting sleepy while I had only just started. 

“I forgot to call my moms oh my god they’re going to kill me,” I say, nearly breaking the call back button with my finger.

“Your… moms?” Connor repeats tilting his head in confusion.

The phone picks up and Ima starts to yell already, clearly frustrated.

“איפה היית! אמא שלך כל כך מודאגת!” She shouts angrily. I know it’s coming from a place of love and concern, but I flinch regardless. She is always a little scary when she’s upset.

“Ima אני מצטער שכחתי להתקשר,” 

“בלי תירוצי! אתה בא הביתה עכשיו!" 

“כמובן, אני מצטער” I barely finish speaking before she huffs angrily and hangs up. “I… have to go home.” I say awkwardly to Evan and Connor. They don’t look mad about me going, and instead Connor looks intrigued about something.

“Were you speaking Jewish?” The brunet blurts, sounding damn near excited and proud of himself that he guessed it. I nearly choke with how fast I laugh.

“Hebrew Connor… It’s Hebrew,” I wheeze. Connor looks ashamed and embarrassed, brushing his fingers through his hair. After a moment I relax and smile at them. 

“Okay this was fun, but my moms are going to make me into a rug if I don’t start walking home.” I wave goodbye and leave Evan’s apartment, using google maps to find my way home. The moon is high in the sky when I get in, and I sit through a long lecture about keeping my phone on before Mama hugs me tightly.

“I thought something happened to you.” She cries. I’ve never felt so guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 4/25/19


	7. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do I do Jared?” He asks directly, his fingers fisted in my t-shirt.
> 
> “I guess all we can do right now is spend time with them and wait.” The words sound a lot more depressed when they leave my mouth, and it only succeeds in making Connor sob harder.

It was around mid-November when Ima got sick. She started getting noticeably paler and tired, and about a week into it she started coughing up blood in the sink. Despite this, Ima refused to go to the hospital. Another week and she had deep bruises all over her despite being in bed nearly all day. She finally relented and let us arrange an appointment after her eyes sunk in even more. Deep eye bags accented them, and it seemed like she looked worse every day.

It started off as a cold, but then it shifted into something similar to a flu. Then doctors said it’s either septicemia or cancer.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, Mama got sick too. Same symptoms, same illness. She immediately tried to get an appointment and they sent her away. They didn’t treat her until it got severe.

Sometimes I wonder if there is a God. I suppose being Jewish and going to temple means I should, but all evidence points otherwise. I was abandoned when I was a baby, and now the only parents I’ve ever known are sick and in critical condition, both with ‘possible cancer.’ If someone were to hear about this, I’d be put into the foster system, or left with Mama’s homophobic family members.

So naturally I tried to keep my mouth shut.

Then I saw Connor sitting in the waiting room of the same hospital, his eyes dark, hair messy, and his clothes dirty and rumpled. He looks like he slept in that chair and it’s quite possible that he did. I cross the room, first making sure the tear stains on my face aren’t noticeable, before standing in front of the seat beside him. His eyes are clouded, and he’s staring off into space with a deep, almost faded, concentration.

“This seat taken?” I ask, pointing weakly toward it. Connor blinks twice and slowly looks up at me. I’ve never seen someone look so lost.

“Jared? What are you doing here?” He turns away from me and rubs his face with his sleeve. He seems ashamed that he’d been crying, and I don’t comment on it.

I sit down beside him and lean back onto the scratchy fabric. I hadn’t realized how tense my shoulders were, so I take a deep breath and let them fall. “Probably the same reason as you.” I say quietly. Connor breathes out, biting at a small lip piercing I’ve never seen before.

“I don’t know what to do.” He admits, his voice sounding rough and weak. After a moment of silence, he sinks his hands into his hair, the rings on his fingers getting caught in it. Connor doesn’t seem to mind, continuing to pull and fluff it up. I don’t feel like talking, so I just lean back to stare at the ceiling. I count the tiles over and over until Connor speaks up again.

“This is all my fault.” He whispers regretfully. I snap out of my stupor and grab his shoulder harshly.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Connor looks like he’s been slapped across the face. His hands fall into his lap and he sits up a little from where he’d been leaning over.

“You didn’t make them sick. Don’t blame yourself cause then it’s my fault too.”  
The brunet nods and swallows, spinning one of his rings on his hand to preoccupy himself.

“Who are you here for?” Connor asks. Panic seizes me for a moment. I can’t tell him both of them are sick, what if he says something? I’m not going back to Texas, maybe when hell freezes over.

“Ima.” I say, because it’s not technically a lie. Connor sighs again, his eyes saddening.

“I’m so sorry.” That’s all anyone can say. _Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry._ The word just makes my skin crawl.

“What about you…?” I hope it’s not too pushy. Connor has a tendency to be sensitive when he’s emotional. Though that’s probably due to a mood disorder. He’s way too unbalanced to be neurotypical.

“My sister.” He mutters. After a moment he starts to tear up again and makes a horrible tiny choking sound. I hear him mutter something like ‘my baby sister’ before he hides his face in his hands again, pushing his palms against his eyes. Frustrated tears spill between the cracks of his fingers, dripping down into his lap. Unsure on what to do, I scoot closer in my chair.

Connor looks up and I hold my arms open a little bit. I don’t expect the immediate crushing embrace. My shoulder is damp after a few seconds, and I hesitantly pat Connor’s back. He’s shaking in his seat, and I gently bring a hand up to pet his hair. Connor whines and I hear a quiet sniffle.

“What do I do Jared?” He asks directly, his fingers fisted in my t-shirt.

“I guess all we can do right now is spend time with them and wait.” The words sound a lot more depressed when they leave my mouth, and it only succeeds in making Connor sob harder.

I already cried all my tears outside my moms’ hospital rooms, but my eyes feel oddly wet.

…

I still have to attend school despite my situation. It doesn’t matter to the education system if your parents are dying, you still have to go to college.

Evan is thankfully fine, his mother alive and well. The blond does complain that his mom isn’t home as much anymore because of all the new patients she has, and I choke back the bitter response in my throat.

_At least your mom can come home at all._

Unlike me, Connor doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He has frequent breakdowns at school, and it’s already been arranged by Connor’s parents that he stay over with Evan until the illness blows over. Sometimes I see him at the corner of the classroom, head in his hands. His hair gets dirtier as the days pass, as his sister gets worse. He doesn’t say much, and he doesn’t eat, but then, neither can I. 

We’re not the only ones with sick family, and I’m certain we won’t be the last.

Ima takes my hand the next time I visit, and she sets her wedding ring into my palm.

“There’s a box for you,” She starts, eyes dulled and voice weak. My hands shake with poorly restrained rage.

“You’re not going to die.” I interrupt, “You can’t.”

Ima smiles sadly and gives me a loose, fragile hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has absolutely no self control!!
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: 4/25/19


	8. Worrisome Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Real smart of you to kill your brain cells in a time like this, pal.” I comment, locking the door behind me. Connor mumbles something incoherent, rubbing his cheek against the floor beneath him.  
> “Alright buddy, come on,” I lean down to pick him up, the brunet being dead weight in my arms. “It’s time for bed.”
> 
> “Thanks for coming to get me.” He says with a soft, serious tone, and for a moment I think he’s sober. The hazy glint in his eyes says otherwise though.

The trees lost their leaves to protect against the chill that swept through the valley, barely reaching the negatives. Of course, it’s not as cold as northern states, but I’m not one of those assholes who demeans Californians for disliking the cold. Suffering is relative, even on the minor side of the scale.

With the frost also came with the illness spreading past the poor areas. The map had been drawn and redrawn but every three days it moves outward more. People in other states are reported to be dying, and the US mortality rate is skyrocketing. School is optional at this point, but for me it’s the only place I can go.

Ima died near the end of October, and Mama followed pretty quickly after. Sometimes I feel like Mama just gave up after Ima died. She just seemed to stop caring about anything and then next thing I knew she had stopped breathing. She didn't leave me a note, but then, neither did Ima. I don't either of them expected to die so soon, as young as they were. After Mama left none of her relatives called, and I had a funeral by myself. That night, two candles were lit and I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in.

It was late at night near the end of January, when the ringing of my phone woke me up. I sat up from my moms’ bed, grabbing it from where it was at the edge.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice scratchy from sleep. I fumble for my glasses next, finding them in my hair when quiet, desperate sobs reach my ears.

“Jared.” I recognize the person as Connor and stiffen up. “Jared, she’s gone, fuck she’s gone.”

Connor starts to loudly and grossly cry. “Now my mom is sick too and dad won’t fucking come home!” Connor shouts the end of it, his voice breaking miserably, and I hear something clatter to the floor, glass, or maybe a bottle.

“Are you drinking?” I ask, already slipping my shoes on. I don’t get a response and take the pause as an opportunity to tug on a jacket and slip my moms’ wedding rings around my neck. There was a small chain in the box the left for me, and it was a little tight, but I made it work.

“Maybe.” Connor mumbles quietly, shamefully.

“Where’s Evan?” I grab my keys and leave, locking the door even though it was unnecessary.

“Evan he’s…” Connor struggles to find his words. “Hospital with Ms. Hansen. Said he’d be back later…”

“Okay,” I look around and slip a mask on my face. “Hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

Connor whimpers and then the dial tone plays for me as he hangs up.

The streets are littered and pot holes decorate the paved roads. Cities never take care of their poor, and it always leads to chaos. If we could just figure out a cure, a solution maybe…

Evan had given me his spare key card after I started coming over more frequently. I let myself in and navigate through the narrow, squared off paths. At some point, I notice Sox following behind me, so I give him a few ear scratches before heading up the stairs.

As expected, Evan’s apartment is unlocked, and Connor is laying on the tiled kitchen floor beside his phone, an empty glass bottle next to his head.

“Real smart of you to kill your brain cells in a time like this, pal.” I comment, locking the door behind me. Connor mumbles something incoherent, rubbing his cheek against the floor beneath him.

“Alright buddy, come on,” I lean down to pick him up, the brunet being dead weight in my arms. “It’s time for bed.”

Connor looks up at me from beneath his bangs and I expect him to vomit, whine or talk nonsense. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the weird wet kiss he plants on my mouth, his hand reaching up for my shoulder. I pull away in surprise, frowning at him.

Clearly, he was too drunk to think about consequences, because he had the same relaxed expression as he did moments ago. You know, before he nearly stuck his tongue in my mouth?

“Why did you do that?” I ask, lifting him up a little more to try to get off the floor. “Don’t you like Evan, you idiot?”

Connor smiles and leans on me more.

“Evan,” He mutters dreamily. “I like Evan.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Drunk Connor has the audacity to look just as confused as me. “Because I wanted to?”

“Okay… that’s the entire bottle of sangria talking.” I manage to get him on his feet and use the strength in my arms to lift him up off the ground. Would Evan mind if I put Connor in his bed?

Evan’s room looks the same besides the small air mattress set up with a small pile of clutter surrounding it.

“Okay. Night-night Connor.” I drop him down onto the makeshift bed and he curls up into a ball, dragging the sheets with him into a nest shape. I move to leave, but then I notice the worn black converse on his feet, caught on a part of the sheet.

I kneel to untie them, and Connor smiles stupidly while I do it. “You’re such a baby.” I tease, pulling them off for him and setting them aside.

“I can be your baby if you want.” Connor offers with a completely serious tone. Okay, so he’s a flirty drunk, jot that down.

“Uh huh. Whatever you want. Go to sleep now.” I pat his head and he takes my hand, squeezing it gently. His rings are uncomfortable to hold but I’d rather not say anything.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” He says with a soft, serious tone, and for a moment I think he’s sober. The hazy glint in his eyes says otherwise though.

“Don’t worry.” I respond, tucking the blankets up around him.

“You’re so nice to me.” Connor babbles, pulling the blankets up further.

He’s out in minutes, so the rest of my time is spent waiting for Evan to get home. He and his mom show up at the door about an hour later with masks and medicine, and Evan’s mom picks up the empty wine bottle from the floor curiously.

“Connor’s.” I explain simply with a deep sigh.

Ms. Hansen nods and peeks her head into Evan’s room at Connor, muttering something like ‘that poor boy’ before going to her own room.

Evan sets their stuff down on the small, round, kitchen table at the corner of the apartment.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands reaching and then dropping suddenly.

“Yeah,” I lie, “You?”

Evan sighs and glances at his bedroom, with tired, worried eyes.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I'm so tired and legit no one is gonna read this but I'm going to post it anyway. Here's Chapter 8
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 5/2/19 (probably sooner knowing my impulsive ass.)


	9. Useless Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing?” He asks, putting his mug back down.  
> “Going home?”  
> Evan frowns and grabs my shoulders, steering me toward the living room. “Are you crazy? It’s too late for you to walk home. Take the couch at least.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” Evan asks, bringing me back to solid ground.

“No.” I say softly, fiddling with the table cloth on the kitchen table. Evan was making himself some tea, trying to occupy himself. Connor was still knocked out in the next room, and I didn’t tell Evan that he kissed me. I doubt Connor will remember, so why should I bring it up? The only thing it would succeed in doing is breaking Evan and Connor up; and I know they need each other.

Evan sits down across from me, his hands firmly wrapped around a clean white mug, the steam floating around him.

“Thank you for taking care of him.” He whispers, waving some of the steam away. I nod in response, my eyes struggling to stay open. “He’s really fragile right now.”  
I swallow and drop my hands down into my lap. “Yeah.” An ugly, bitter voice at the back of my head says something angry, getting upset that Evan doesn’t care about me like he cares about Connor. _You’re not important._

“Jared.” Evan says sternly, his eyebrows furrowed in both worry and frustration. “Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry.” I don’t bother making an excuse. “I was thinking.” Evan’s eyes squint, his eyebrows pinching together further, making a little crease above his nose.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, his hand reaching forward to rest on top of mine. My heart jumps and a small confused noise exits my throat against my will. _Evan never touches me._ “I’m worried about you.” He continues, his voice soft and sweet.

I pull at my collar and clear my throat; the rings being shifted out from beneath my shirt. “You don’t need to. I’m fine.” Evan frowns, taking his hand away.

“It’s getting late.” He says after a moment, pulling his mask up a little at the bottom to take a sip from his cup. I sigh and get up, walking toward the door. It was clear that he wanted me to go home.

“What are you doing?” He asks, putting his mug back down.

“Going home?”

Evan frowns and grabs my shoulders, steering me toward the living room. “Are you crazy? It’s too late for you to walk home. Take the couch at least.” I don’t say anything and Evan leaves to get blankets and a spare pillow for me. Why is he suddenly comfortable with me now? Lack of sleep? Is he sick in the head?

“Come on Jared,” Evan murmurs, pulling my arm gently. He sits me down on the couch and hands me the pillow. I look up at him and notice his cheeks are a little red. “Get some sleep.” He hesitates, before hugging me.

It only lasts a second before he steps quietly away, the bedroom door shutting softly behind him. I lay down and stare at the ceiling, holding onto my moms’ wedding rings. I think of lighting another candle maybe, saying a prayer before bed, but my eyelids are already falling slowly.

…

“We should research the illness.” I say the next morning, the maps surrounding Connor, Evan, and I. Like I thought, Connor didn’t remember last night, and the day went normally. There are uncapped pens, scrap paper, and my laptop is in the center of it all with several tabs open.

“So, journaling?” Evan asks, already pulling a notebook out of his backpack.

“Yeah, but with dia–” Evan drops the notebook in my lap, the pages open. “–grams…” I finish weakly, flipping through it. There are detailed lists of symptoms, daily logs of patients, x-rays etched in pen in the margins, everything I could’ve thought of is already done. 

“When did you do this?” I ask, stopping on a page labeled room 430 and dated a week ago. My hand starts to shake, and I try to conceal it. _He saw Mama in the hospital?_

“I’ve been doing it for a year or so.” Evan shrugs. “That’s Journal 4.”

I restrain myself from tearing the page out and ripping it to pieces. An x-ray of the tumor she had is scrawled beside Mama’s description. How pale and tired she looked. How bad her appetite was. How little hair she had.

Drops of water wet the page and Connor grabs my shoulder, shaking me lightly.

“Jared are you okay?” He says worriedly. Gentle hands take the book from me and I hear it shut faintly beside me. My sight blurs and Connor takes my hand, squeezing it. 

“What’s wrong?”

I can’t bring myself to say it, my fingers are shaking too much to focus.

“Did I say something?” Evan is on my other side, his fingers clasped around the clean and well-taken care of notebook.

Words escape my mouth before I can even attempt to reel them in, and I reach up to clutch my moms’ rings again. The decorative swirls and stones dig into my palm and I let them do it, my hands shaking minutely. 

“Her?” Evan asks, flipping to the page I was on. He looks down at it and then back at me. “Did you know her?” The room is spinning, and I feel a lump build in my throat.  
I can barely hear what I said. I don’t even think to ask. My hands are sweaty now, and I’m hyperventilating so hard my lungs ache. It’s like the world around me was smeared, blurring everything and making it hard to understand what’s going on. I lose each one of my senses, the room becoming muted and distant.

My eyes finally open, and I find myself tucked into Evan’s bed. The sheets are wrapped tightly around me and something heavy is laying on top of me. Upon further inspection, I find that it’s a comforter filled with bean bag filling and sewn back up sloppily. I guess Evan couldn’t afford a weighted blanket. He must’ve made this himself.  
The two boys are nowhere to be found in the room and I flop back down, relaxing my neck. I haven’t had a panic attack in years, but I suspect there are many more to come considering how this situation has snowballed since I showed up.

My mind is clouded, and I’m being forced to breathe shallowly by the weight on my chest. _How pathetic._

The sun is a little lower in the sky, and my stomach is aching, so I guess an hour or so must’ve passed at this point. I let my eyes shut again, trying to think.  
Before this I was researching the disease. 

After a few minutes, my eyes snap back open when I realize something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only story I'm like,, reliably updating but no one wants to read it akaksk. Is it boring?? Should I just like,, stop doing it?
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 5/2/19


	10. All Wound Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We dive back into research, comparing, erasing, and going back over it. Thousands of sites are explored, this time with the added knowledge of it possibly being predetermined. There was a single study, a work in progress, from a scientist in Rhode Island. They had almost the same information and the same questions we had, even with all their equipment and funding.

“So… you suspect it isn’t contagious?” Evan asks, thumbing his book open.

After I realized that, I jumped out of bed and completely skipped their apologies, pulling up the maps and research from the floor.

“Why is that?” Evan continues, readying a pen over his paper.

“My theory is it’s predetermined. Some people can get sick, some can’t. Why do I think this?” I pull the map with the red circles extending out. “If it passes through the water systems, that would mean the people near the dead center would be drinking it their whole lives, right?”

I tap my pen near a dead center of a disease spot. “What if, they caught a small strain of it as babies, and _survived?_ ”

Connor blinks owlishly up at me. “Are you saying the people who are alive now, are immune?”

“God no,” I snort, “There’s no such thing. I’m saying it could be like chicken pox. The people who are dying now are the upper and middle class, since they’ve never had it before, it’s ten times more deadly now.”

Evan is scrawling this on a spare piece of paper and looking through his past research.

“Besides, if it was contagious, I would have caught it by now. And I feel fine.” I pause. “Physically.”

Evan nods quietly to himself, adjusting his mask. It goes without saying, Evan doesn’t need the mask and gloves anymore. Connor and I are both looking at him and Evan blushes.

“J-Just because it might not be contagious doesn’t mean pollution isn’t bad for you.” He counters weakly, pulling his gloves up further, tugging his sleeves down over his wrists. “And this is a theory. We, We don’t have any solid evidence yet.”

We dive back into research, comparing, erasing, and going back over it. Thousands of sites are explored, this time with the added knowledge of it possibly being predetermined. There was a single study, a work in progress, from a scientist in Rhode Island. They had almost the same information and the same questions we had, even with all their equipment and funding. Thankfully they also seem disconnected from the government.

That’s a little worrying, but what isn’t at this point?

“I’m hungry.” Connor interrupts after a half an hour and I blink. I was so consumed in working that I was ignoring my stomach cramping since I left the bedroom.  
“Should we go out?” I ask, not wanting to eat anything random from the pantry. I miss Mama’s cooking and Ima’s desserts… they always made sure there was enough for leftovers.

_Jared they’re dead. Shut the fuck up and suck it up._

“Yeah probably.” Evan says, scratching his jaw lightly. I notice red scratch lines under his fingers. He must’ve been doing it this whole time.  
I throw my mask away, keeping the gloves on, and Connor does the same. Evan puts on a second jacket, but he doesn’t apply any hand sanitizer this time. That’s improvement, I guess.

The streets are deserted, with few people outside. Sox follows Connor further than normal.

I hear the boy hiss ‘fuck it’ beneath his breath before lifting the black cat up and setting him on his shoulders.

“There are no parents at home to tell me I can’t have a cat, so that’s a plus I guess.” It’s worded like a joke, but his voice is hollow and empty, communicating a much deeper sorrow beneath it. The only sound that accompanies us on our walk is Sox’s loud purring and Connor’s soft cooing.

Most of the fast food places are closed due to the owners dying, but the ones in the poorer towns are still standing somehow. We settle on a Mc Donald’s which is nearly empty. There are only three employees in the whole building, and I try to order the least amount of food to be less of an inconvenience.  
Connor pays for all the food, sliding his dad’s credit card to the cashier.

“He can handle being charged while he’s off in Japan.” Connor mutters bitterly to himself. I never did ask where Connor’s father was, I just knew he wasn’t home.  
“Well.” Evan says quietly, picking a booth in the middle of the restaurant. “I never thought I’d live to see society crumble like this.”

“Oh, honey be serious, we all knew this would happen,” I say, playing a small game on my phone while I wait for the food.

Connor snorts. “That was the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Yeah well, it’s fitting then.” I mutter, trying to make the weird little character jump over the obstacles.

Connor and Evan both look at me wide eyed, but they say nothing. They probably expected me to be straight, since I have that kind of aesthetic. After a few seconds they seem to snap out of it and Connor busies himself with petting Sox.

“I’ve never had a cat before.” He comments, smiling widely when Sox mews and nips lightly at Connor’s fingers. “Can they eat chicken nuggets?”  
“I dunno, google it.” I say, trying not to pay attention to anything but the game. 

Connor takes his phone out and types with one hand, scratching Sox’s half ear with the other. “Hm, it should be fine. You want some chicken, kitty?”  
He buries his face in the cat’s pitch-black fur, talking to him sweetly.

I fight back a smile and keep my eyes trained on my phone. Eventually they call us over and I get up to grab the warm tray from the cashier.

“Thanks. I’m sorry you have to work right now.” I say, sliding my phone into my jacket pocket.

“It’s fine.” She says with a dead tone. Obviously, she doesn’t think it is, truly. “At least I’m still getting paid.”

I nod awkwardly and I take out five dollars, holding it toward her. She looks incredibly sad when she accepts it. I bring the tray back to our booth and set it down, unwrapping the food. “So, we’re gonna do more research tonight, right?”

Evan cringes at my words, and Connor hums. “Jared I think we should take a break.”

I drop my hand down on the table and glare at the both of them sternly. “We can’t take breaks until we figure this out.”

Evan reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder gently. I suppress a shudder at the feeling and try to focus on Evan’s words. “We haven’t relaxed since we got in this mess. Don’t you want to forget about everything, just a little bit?”

My throat closes and I set the box of chicken nuggets back down on the table.

“Let’s be normal teenagers, for a least one night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sox is my favorite character what about u
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 5/9/19


	11. For Every Love I Had To Hide...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t need relationship drama right now, not when the stakes are so high.

I don’t know why the suggestion was so tempting. Ever since I came over the first time, we’ve been researching and theorizing the disease. A part of me doesn’t want to give up, thinking if I take a break for even a second, I’d be dishonoring Ima and Mama. Like they’d be disappointed with me for not figuring it out soon. They didn’t die for nothing.

“Come on Jared.” Evan says, gently shaking my shoulder. We just missed Evan’s mom on the way home, her having to leave for the night shift. Her work load has quadrupled since the break out, and I feel bad for her. She has the tired smile of someone who worked every day of their life and had barely anything to show for it.

I turn toward them and try not to look annoyed. Connor had grabbed two chairs and pushed them into the living room in front of the tv. A couch was flipped, and blankets and sheets are piled beside it in a messy heap.

“What’s all this for?” I ask, looking at them pointedly. Evan and Connor look incredibly proud of themselves when Connor answers.

“We’re gonna make a pillow fort and watch conspiracies.” Connor takes my hand and pulls me over to the pillows and blankets. They meticulously stack the cushions in an igloo style, pushing the couch behind the chairs to make a cave. Sheets are thrown above the chairs and draped over the back of the couch, creating the ceiling. While Evan stuffs pillows inside for us to lay on, Connor makes me help gather snacks and blankets.

It’s all set up with Connor’s tablet connected to the tv, playing a YouTube video of a guy ranting about chuckie cheese’s pizza. Evan nudges me inside with a smile, and before I know it, I’m sandwiched between the two other boys. It was a little weird that they put me in the middle but it wasn’t like I could say anything to stop them. They were a force to recon with when they worked together.

Evan cuddles with a smaller pillow, and then does something that shocks me so much I barely breathe. He takes his mask off, folding it neatly beside him. His face is covered with freckles, and his lips are light pink and downturned into a resting frown. I can’t help but stare.

“What?” Evan asks, his lips setting into a thin, confused line.

“Nothing.” I respond as quickly as possible, (unfortunately) tearing my eyes away from him to focus on the video. When glance to my left, I see Connor is staring too. His eyes are half lidded and I feel uncomfortable being in the middle of it. Why didn’t they lay next to each other so they could cuddle?

“Why am I in the middle? Don’t you guys wanna–” Evan presses a gloved hand over my mouth and shushes me.

“We did this for you. The least you could do is enjoy it.”

I huff, squeezing my pillow tighter against my chest. I hate to admit it, but it is nice and warm…

Three videos in and my eyelids start to droop, my body feeling heavier and heavier. I’m sinking further into the cheap carpeting when the sheet caves in, falling over our heads and faces.

“Connor,” Evan complains, lifting it up over his face. “You and your long legs!” He rolls his eyes and stands, starting to adjust the fabric.  
Connor’s eyes are on me.

Hands reach for me, resting in my hair and on my neck.

Below the blanket, Connor pulls me in, and I feel his breath on my face–

I reach out and push him away. “No.” My voice comes out disconnected and weak. Connor blinks, looking confused and rejected. “No.” I say again, quieter.  
Evan crawls back into the fort and tilts his head at us.

“Is something wrong?” Evan asks, his eyes flicking from Connor and to me.

“I’m tired.” I say, rubbing my neck. It’s not a lie, but I don’t want to start an argument. Evan lays back down next to me and wraps his arm around my waist, making my cheeks dangerously warm.

“That’s not a problem.” He says, his arm tugging me closer. I finally let my eyes shut, trying to ignore the fact that Connor just tried to kiss me. He must’ve remembered the first time.

What does it mean? He likes Evan, right? Why would he kiss me? Why would anyone want to do that in the first place?

Evan encourages me to lay on his shoulder and I do, insecurities and worries melting in the shared heat of the two boys beside me. Hopefully this Connor stuff can be solved after we figure out the source of the disease, and a possible cure.

I don’t need relationship drama right now, not when the stakes are so high.

…

Tuesday morning rolls around slowly, all three of us wrapped in the fort. Connor had scooted away from me, and I sighed as quietly as possible. I try not to think about the fact that he and Evan are dating, and he’s kissed me once and attempted a second. Thankfully the drunk one wasn’t my first kiss, or I would’ve been a lot more mad.

I was just about ready to shake him awake and confront him while Evan was asleep, but then Connor’s phone started ringing. He got up slowly and weak fingers grabbed at it, tapping clumsily on the screen.

“Yeah?” Connor says with a deep, rough voice, rubbing his eyes. After a moment, he stops moving altogether, his eyes widening. Then comes the tears. I’m not sure what to do, as Evan isn’t awake yet. He nods after a moment to himself, swallowing hard.

“Thank you.” His voice is a lot weaker now, but his body is tensed and rigid. I almost reach out to comfort him when his phone goes flying, smashing against the wall. His breathing is all sharp and he barely exhales before sucking in more air.

An attack? Now?

I can’t remember what I’m supposed to do when Connor has an episode, so I just sit and watch with disconnected fear.

Connor doesn’t seem to notice I’m there, and midway into yelling and tugging his hair, he breaks down, hot tears filling his eyes and spilling out on his shirt and the carpet. That’s when I gently take his arm and help him up.

**Cynthia Murphy: time of death, 4:30 AM.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut  
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 5/9/19


	12. ...And Every Tear I Ever Cried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t bother taking any money. Jewelry and family photos fill the front pocket of my backpack, along with a few family antiques. It’s what Mama and Ima would’ve worried about.

Connor was a mess, his hands shaking around a glass of juice I gave him. His voice was cracking violently, and he could hardly get the words out, but I gathered someone died. His dad was still nowhere to be found, and his mom was in the hospital last I heard.

“Evan.” Connor mumbles, his eyes hazy and his posture deflated.

“Do you want Evan?” I ask, trying to lead him to sit down at the kitchen table. Asshole or not, Connor is my friend. I’m not going to leave him alone after his mom died. God only knows how much I wanted someone to comfort me when Ima died. Mama was more broken than me, and she could hardly look up, much less console me.

Connor looks faded, nodding slightly while simultaneously trying to sip his juice. I help him sit in the chair and head back over to the fort where Evan has been sleeping peacefully. 

I pull the blankets away from his shoulder and shake him gently.

“Evan,” I call as softly as possible. After a minute of shaking him he blearily opens his eyes, leaning up slightly on his arm.

“What, is something wrong?” He asks, pulling a strand of hair from his mouth. He wipes his mouth and blinks up at me.

“Connor needs you.” I say a little louder than normal to make sure he understands me. Evan stumbles to his feet, grasping his mask and pulling it on. When Evan pulls Connor into a big bear hug, I awkwardly shuffle away to the bathroom. I felt like I was intruding on something and judging by Connor’s loud sobbing that echoes through the apartment, it was the right decision to give them space.

While I’m in the bathroom, I take a minute to look outside. Society has pretty much collapsed at this point. I had already grabbed anything important to me and stuffed my backpack with it. The only clothes I took from my house are my moms’ sweaters and my t-shirts. I didn’t bother taking any money. Jewelry and family photos fill the front pocket of my backpack, along with a few family antiques. It’s what Mama and Ima would’ve worried about.

I just want to make them proud. Even if they’re gone.

I remind myself to light another candle tonight when I hear the sobbing outside die down. I flush the toilet to fake like I had been in there for a reason, and hesitantly creak open the door. Evan and Connor are sitting on the now upright couch, with Connor’s head in Evan’s lap. The taller boy’s fingers are clutching onto Evan’s sweater desperately, and his face is wet with fresh tears. The blond gives me a tired smile, dropping his hand to rest it in Connor’s messy hair.

“How is he?” I ask softly, nervously standing in front of them. Connor appears to have dozed off, his eyebrows relaxed, and jaw dropped from where it was normally rigid.

“He just needed to cry himself out a bit.” Evan says quietly, his hand gently petting Connor’s tangled locks.

“Did he tell you what happened?”

Evan’s eyes drop and he looks deeply saddened. “Yes.” He whispers.

“Are you alright?” I ask, sitting beside him. After all, Evan must’ve been close to Connor’s family. They grew up together for Christ’s sake.

“I think so.” Evan says, reaching up to rub his own eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.” His voice is weak and defeated, and I notice a lot of similarities between him and his mom. The tired, forced happiness to try to convince everyone he is okay when he’s breaking down. He’s a mama’s boy.

_What will happen to him if his mom dies?_

No, she’s had the illness. She’ll be fine. _Evan_ will be fine. Someone has to be.

“Do you want a hug?” The second it slips I want to take it back. I’m not pitying him and it seems like I am. I mainly want an excuse to hug Evan, and I breathe an internal sigh of relief when Evan nods. The blond doesn’t look upset or uncomfortable at the idea of it, so I wrap my arms around him, and I let him cry.

It’s the least I could do.

…

When Connor wakes, the first thing he does is search for Sox, who was curled up on Evan’s bed.

“We should get him some cat food.” Connor murmurs, stroking the cat from his ears to tail.

“Ms. Hansen said not to go outside.” I comment, pulling at my sleeves. Pollution keeps steadily increasing and Evan’s mom warned them about leaving the house too frequently without masks. Right now, the hospital thinks it’s the air pollution that’s causing the disease, but we know that’s not the case.

Despite that, I want to follow her orders. It may possibly be the last time a mother tells me to do something. 

“You know that doesn’t matter.” Connor calls my bluff immediately, scratching Sox’s ear. “Look at him, he’s hungry.” Connor squishes his face and Sox purrs, pushing up into the touch.

Outside is, to be a frank, a complete nightmare.

I can see why Ms. Hansen told us no. Evan holds onto my sleeve, looking around with wide frightened eyes. The smog has reached the floor, and I hear distant sirens. It’s nothing close to those stupid dystopian novels, but store windows are broken and I hear a car crash a street away. The only thing left standing is hospitals and medical tents.

How did we not notice this happening right under our noses?

How long has it been since it got noticeably worse?

A day? A night?

After seeing Connor and Evan’s expressions I’m reminded that we’re just kids. We don’t know how to deal with this. Grief was enough to tear us down but disease? Famine? How many other kids like us, old and young, are orphaned and abandoned?

_Thank you for letting me have the privilege of staying with Ms. Hansen._

The God I don’t believe in doesn’t answer, of course.

They never do but, why would they? I haven’t been exactly religious throughout my life. If anything I’ve been extremely judgmental of God. We haven’t been on speaking terms for so long.

“Jared.” Connor whispers, clutching Sox closer. “I’m scared.”

I take his hand and carefully lead us through the smog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> You know what I give up I update every Tuesday and Thursday. Just try and stop me.  
> Next Chapter: 5/14/19


	13. At Least You Have One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has still not said anything, and I look at him. He’s fuming, his chest tight and his shoulders squared like he wants to deck Evan in the face.  
> “Don’t _ever_ fucking talk about my mom.” Connor grits out. Evan looks frightened, and he should be.  
> “Connor I’m sorry, I didn’t-”  
> “ _Don’t ever talk to me again._ ”

We managed to find cat food, but stores were otherwise, empty. Evan frowns and seems to be mentally calculating something.

“You guys realize we’re gonna starve in a few weeks if we don’t figure out a cure, right?” Evan says softly, his hands releasing my sleeve.

“I want to go home.” Connor mutters, looking at me with pleading eyes.

“So do I.” I say, with a completely different tone. Connor can always stay with Evan, but my home is long gone. My home turned into an empty shell of what it used to be when Mama and Ima died. It is no longer my safe space. Nowhere is.

“Right.” Connor says, setting Murphy and the bag down. The cat lounges at his feet. Connor cracks his knuckles. “We’re running away.”

Evan blinks at him in confusion, and I stare at him with the same amount of doubt.

“No, seriously.” Connor says, turning around to walk back to Evan’s apartment building, Murphy following suit. “You remember that study, right? That was posted recently? If the dude is still alive, we might be able to find a cure, or we could come up with ideas for containment.”

I walk beside him and try not to laugh in his face.

“You can’t bet on someone who’s all the way across the country, Connor.” I respond, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

“What other choice do we have?” Connor spins around, his eyebrows tilted down furiously. His eyes are filled with something desperate and furious. “Who can we bet on if not him?”

“We can stay home!” Evan is shouting, pulling at his hair. I hadn’t noticed he’s stopped a while back, a gap separating us in the street. “What the fuck do you mean, what choice do we have?”

He’s frantic now, pacing back and forth.

“We’re just kids! I’m not running away from the _only_ home I’ve ever known for a ‘maybe’ on a disease that’s rapidly killing people! Our best bet would be to stay here!”

“Evan you’re being ridiculous!” Connor shouts back, his arms thrown out, angrily gesturing.

“No, _you’re_ being ridiculous! I didn’t lose my fucking mom okay?! Just because both of you did doesn’t mean I’m ditching mine for your sake!” The second the words escape, Evan looks like he regrets them.

My eyes start to sting, and Connor stays scarily quiet.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Evan starts, walking toward us.

I clench my jaw and I don’t say anything. I blankly stare at him as he advances. Connor looks angry and I don’t blame him. I’m angry too. Grief is like a deep-rooted flame in my chest, and it’s flared up to wrap inside my throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Go back home then. At least you have one.” My voice is void of emotion, and Evan looks completely heartbroken.

“I didn’t mean it, Jared, please.” He’s begging, but to be frank, I don’t care.

Connor has still not said anything, and I look at him. He’s fuming, his chest tight and his shoulders squared like he wants to deck Evan in the face.

“Don’t _ever_ fucking talk about my mom.” Connor grits out. Evan looks frightened, and he should be.

“Connor I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“ _Don’t ever talk to me again._ ”

Evan’s eyes fill with tears when Connor turns, walking away. I suspect he doesn’t even know where he’s going. After Connor’s form is out of sight, I start to walk too. 

“No Jared please, not you too-”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I respond, stopping in my tracks yet again. “We’re going back to your house to wait for Connor to cool off.”

Evan wipes his tears and nearly runs to my side. “Really? You’re not ditching me? Th-”

“Make no mistake. I’m very fucking mad at you right now.” I cut him off, starting to walk again. He follows beside me, his hands gripping his own arms. Good. I don’t want him to touch me.

“Why did you stay?” He asks in a meek voice, trying to be as small as possible.

“Because I’m not four years old.” I pause, breathing in sharply when the apartment building comes into view. “Besides, we’re a team. I’m not going to abandon either of you over a mistake.”

Evan’s eyes soften. “I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

I put my key card in, and we step inside, passing the identical square buildings. The plants in the area are still green, despite being watered automatically every day with the sprinklers. Interesting. Maybe plants can adapt to the disease as well, just like people. That should be added to the maps.

Evan’s hands are shaking visibly. He must be worried about Connor.

“Has Connor stormed off before?” I ask with a flat tone, reaching up to clasp the wedding rings around my neck.

“A few times. He always c-comes back.” Evan pauses, a small whimper escaping. “I’m not sure he’ll come back this time though.” Evan dissolves into tears, hiccupping hard and breathing harshly. His mask indents and I reach to fix it, staring blankly at him.

His words cut deep, but he’s my friend.

Not my enemy. Not an acquaintance. A friend, something special.

I squeeze him into a hug and try to not think about anything. Don’t think about Connor kissing you, don’t think about Ima, or Mama, or Evan being a huge asshole. Break it down.

_It was just a mistake._

I open my eyes and glare down at the ground. 

_**A mistake I won’t be able to forgive.** _

…

Connor doesn’t return that night. Or the next morning.

Three days pass and Evan goes into complete panic mode, constantly hovering by the door. I wonder where he went. I’m sure his house is still standing.

“Do you know where Connor’s house is?” I ask while measuring the distance between two disease spots, cranking the news on Evan’s old, cheap, radio to listen for the statistics. My pen is hovering over the page, ready for the grim news of the spaces overlapping.

“Of course I do.” Evan responds, looking up from his phone. He was waiting for Connor to call.

“Why don’t we go see if he’s there?” I pen in a large red circle as Evan lights up with the revelation.

“You’re right, Jared! Let’s go!”

I’m dragged away from the map by my shirt collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> I WILL get this story done whether y'all like it or not  
> Next Chapter: 5/16/19


	14. Boys Are Raised To Be Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you apologized to him before?” I ask, trying to analyze the situation properly. Evan looks unamused.  
> “Apologizing for me is like flying for birds.”  
> -  
> Chapter Title: "A Sadness Runs Through Him" cause I thought it fit Connor pretty well

“Why didn’t I think of this before!” Evan states excitedly, still pulling me along. He chatters about everything and nothing, just excited at the prospect of finding Connor. Once we get onto our companion’s street, reality sets in.

“Oh god he doesn’t want to see me after what I said, he hates me.” Evan nearly has a meltdown on that street corner, deep set in the realization that if Connor was okay, he wouldn’t want to see us or at the very least, him.

“Have you apologized to him before?” I ask, trying to analyze the situation properly. Evan looks unamused.

“Apologizing for me is like flying for birds.” His voice is flat, and I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I see.” I respond simply. Evan lays his head in his hands and I roll my eyes. “It’s Connor. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” I say, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s Connor, of course I shouldn’t be worried because he’s still my,” Evan rambles to himself and I try to shut it out. Love him to pieces, but I don’t like mumbling. It’s like nails on a chalk board.

“-Jared?” Evan asks. I blink.

“Huh?” It’s half a noise, barely coming out all the way.

“We’re here.” Evan points to the house just behind us and I step backwards a few, taking in the mansion like home. It was white and pristine, but pretty clearly looted. There is a lone car in the drive way, and it’s broken down. Upon further inspection we notice all the gas in it was syphoned out and the car battery was taken out. 

“Jesus.” For such a nice place, it was trashed. I’m all for ‘eat the rich’ or whatever, but the sight of it makes me sad. Even poor people were looted. You could have next to jack shit, and people would still find something to take from you.

“Let’s go inside.” Evan suggests, walking toward the door with shaking fingers. He breathes in, and I hear a soft ‘it’s Connor’ before he twists the doorknob.

The inside of the house is damn near empty, but the things that were there weren’t destroyed. Connor must be here, because a looted place would not be this clean. The first thing that alerts me is Sox doesn’t come to the door when we open it.

Then I notice it’s still, and the air is stale. Fear churns in my stomach and I push through it with a small cough. “Is his room on the second floor?” I ask Evan, who nods.

“I’m gonna um, look around the first floor.” Evan says, his footsteps retreating toward the living room.

The staircase is more expensive than my entire house, and I travel up carefully, still hearing nothing. Not even a single peep or sniffle. There’s four doors in this hallway, excluding the bathroom door that’s partially open. One has dark purple spray paint on it, with the word ZOE in big block letters across it. A small pang of sadness falls over me when I realize that’s Connor’s sister’s room.

The two besides that are plain, but the last one is so unmistakably the taller boy’s room. It has a stolen street sign nailed to it, with the words KEEP OUT written on it aggressively. I knock, and again, hear nothing. Whispering a soft sorry for invading his privacy, I forcefully push the door open. No Sox. And more importantly, No Connor.

The blankets on his bed are rumpled and his room seems to be cleaned out. I’ve never been in here but the walls and shelves look bare, indicating that he must’ve left for good. Upon looking inside his closet, I find that it’s half empty. So are his drawers. He probably only packed the essentials like I did.

“Jared?” Evan calls from downstairs. I walk down and see Evan in the kitchen, looking mildly distressed. “Look.” Evan trails off a little pointing toward the cabinets. They’re cleaned out completely.

“Did you see him upstairs?” Evan asks. His eyes are filled with a familiar sorrow, the kind that Connor had when he was in the hospital with me.

“No.” I murmur, the situation becoming clear. Connor had run away from home three days or less ago. He didn’t leave any notes, took his car, and ran off.

I vaguely remember an art piece Connor did in visual arts, about how when he runs he wants someone to come find him. I bite my lip and open my arms for Evan’s trembling form. Within moments the blond is screaming and crying at the top of his lungs, his fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt. I keep squeezing him, coming to the conclusion that we’re going to have to rescue Connor from himself. You like the chase Connor? Fine. We’ll chase after you.

“We’re going after him right? We can’t just–”

I pat Evan’s back and nod, shushing him quietly.

“Let’s get out of here.”

…

Heidi luckily returns home that evening, and Evan and I explain the situation to her. She looks incredibly sad at the idea of us leaving, on our own, with no car, to Rhode Island. With a car, it’ll take Connor a week. Without one, Evan and I will take a month to get there. That is, if our supplies hold up.

Heidi gives Evan a phone with unlimited data, and a tight hug, begging him to come home safe. I go to leave but Ms. Hansen grabs me and pulls me into my own hug. Her perfume sticks to my clothing and I try not to melt into the contact.

“You stay safe, alright boys?” Heidi asks, her hand on Evan’s back and her other on my cheek.

The maps are coiled and banded together. We stuff them in Evan’s bag, putting him in charge of documenting the illness. The journals are pushed in as well, and I chew my lip. What else would we need?

“Evan.” I ask, the blond looking up at me. “Got a baseball bat anywhere?”

Evan forces a mask onto my face while I wrap my fingers and arms in gauze. The blond decides to carry a silver switch blade that he got from his grandfather. We both pull on gloves, fearing the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Sorry for the late update! I had a final in history this morning e-e


	15. Bear Any Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I feel like we’re preparing for a zombie apocalypse or something stupid.” Evan grumbles, writing a quick note to his mom if something were to happen to him, and general information of when she should expect them to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k so some people have asked about zoe and alana and 1) zoe died to drive the plot, sorry and 2) just wait! alana's alive and she's going to be important soon so dont worry i havent forgotten about my girls

“Jared?” Evan asks while I’m pushing canned food and extra bottled water in my bag.

“Yeah Ev?” I reply, looking up and pushing my bangs out of my eyes.

“Are we gonna have to like… steal?” The blond seems nervous and uncomfortable at the prospect of it and I shrug.

“Depends on if we have enough food.”

Evan flushes and fiddles with his switch blade, running his fingers over the ingrained words on the metal. I guess his grandfather had a passion for metal work. After a few minutes of packing up, I wonder about the possibility of hot wiring a car. It would help us get there faster. 

Evan leaves while I survey the room and check for anything else to take, and when he returns, he’s holding an old wooden bat with blue tape wrapped around the handle. “Will this work?” He asks, loosely spinning it.

“Evan I could kiss you.” I take the bat out of his hand and the blond flushes and mumbles something under his breath. I pay it no mind for his sake and run my fingers over the bat. Evan mentions a tool box, so I leave to go grab it. Luckily there are a few nails and some sandpaper, so I quickly fix it up as best as I can.

“I feel like we’re preparing for a zombie apocalypse or something stupid.” Evan grumbles, writing a quick note to his mom if something were to happen to him, and general information of when she should expect them to return.

“Yeah kind of. Except our version is gayer.” I swing the bat over my shoulder and tug my too-full backpack over one shoulder. “Ready?” I ask, looking at him curiously.

Evan breathes in heavily, adjusts his mask. “Yeah but, I think we should get some rest.” Evan pauses. “Then we can leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

I nod slowly, dropping my stuff. “Do you want to build a fort again or…?”

Evan takes my hand and drags me into his bed with him.

…

Waking up wasn’t like a traditional cheesy romance novel. When my eyes opened, it was 5:00 and Evan was dead asleep, his arm resting on my stomach like a dead weight. It would’ve been nice and comforting, if I didn’t have to pee. 

I inch over to maybe wake Evan up, but when I see his face, I stop myself. Evan looks so tired that I refrain from shaking him. I shut my eyes and try to ignore the weight on my gut. 

An hour later and I elbow the blond in the side, fed up with waiting for him to wake up. Evan’s eyes snap open and his arm jolts away, letting me sit up and get out of bed.

“Jared? Are you okay?” Evan asks, tilting his head in confusion. I run to the bathroom and shut the door quietly to avoid disturbing Evan anymore than I already had.

After I finish in the bathroom, I wash my hands and step out. Evan is sitting on the side of his bed, his feet planted solidly on the floor. He’s rubbing his eyes tiredly with his knuckle, his eyes half-lidded and hazy.

“You can go back to bed, Ev.” I suggest, walking toward him. My heart drops a little seeing his mask on his face but I don’t mention it or ask why he’s put it on already.

“No, No, it’s fine.” Evan replies weakly, yawning.

“Yeah, right. Come on.”

I make him sleep another hour. In the meantime, I managed to catch Heidi before she went to work. She looked completely depressed and so exhausted. I swear her job may kill her if she isn’t careful. She kisses my forehead and jokingly tells me to give one to Evan for her before we leave.

I nod, taking my job as messenger very seriously. “You can count on me to deliver your kiss Ms. Hansen.”

Heidi laughs and picks up her bag. “Stay safe okay?” Then she’s gone. I guess we better make ourselves scarce too.

“Evan, it’s time to go–” Evan is already up, but he’s sitting at his desk. His hands are clasped and I blush, realizing he’s _praying_. I just interrupted his private shit oh god. “UH SORRY.” I blurt going to close the door.

Evan looks up in confusion and then smiles. “Oh it’s okay. I’m done anyway.” He picks up his bag and pockets his switch. “Should we get going, now?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” I tug my bag on one shoulder and pick up my bat, resting it on my shoulder again. “Got the map?” A crude travel route had been sketched out earlier, and Evan unfolds it, nodding at me.

Evan locks the front door of the apartment and we both sigh. Fuck Connor for leaving.

At first the walk is quiet and peaceful, but then it gets _too_ quiet. It seems like everywhere we go is abandoned, and I notice some cars are just stalled in the middle of the street. If we can siphon enough gas and put it in one car, we may be able to hotwire it to use it.

Evan was not too thrilled when I suggested we steal a car, and he quickly pulled me from that street.

“Where do you think we should stop for nights?” Evan asks absentmindedly, thumbing the penciled lines on the map. I pause at that and chew the inside of my cheek while I think. 

“Maybe we could sleep in a car,” I suggest, which makes Evan blush a little angrily.

“Fine. As long as we aren’t _stealing_ it.”

Night falls a lot quicker when you spend the day walking. We barely get outside of town, and I find myself recognizing the area as Connor’s neighborhood. Something compels me to walk onto his street. 

“Where are we going?” Evan asks, folding his map in half and carefully stuffing it in his pocket.

I open my mouth respond when I notice a guy knocking on Connor’s front door, holding a crowbar in his hands.

“Evan who the fuck is that?”

“Jared,” Evan grabs my arm and looks at me with conflicted eyes. “Relax, he’s a… friend.” Evan approaches the guy and he looks just as confused as Evan. His hand was raised over the door, poised to knock again.

“Miguel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I'm stupid, here
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: 5/23/19


	16. Maybe I've Lost It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well this is all well and good but _who the fuck are you?_ ”

“Miguel?”

“Evan?” The boy responds, blinking awkwardly. He runs his hand through his hair and looks at him sheepishly. “I guess your condition really worked out for you in the end.”

“Yeah.” Evan replies, just as nervously. The tension is so thick it could be cut. Both boys are not paying attention to me and I clear my throat. 

“Well this is all well and good but _who the fuck are you?_ ” Evan jolts and looks at me, and realization crosses over his eyes.

“Oh, um, Miguel this is Jared.” Evan offers, gesturing to me for an explanation. Miguel looks me up and down and then smiles weakly. “Jared this is Miguel.”  
I repress a frown. Why is he at Connor’s door?

Miguel’s attention diverts back to Evan and he gestures to the house. “Where um. Where is Connor?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed. There is a deep rooted worry in his eyes and I swallow.

Evan stays quiet and Miguel’s pupils go impossibly tiny. “Fuck did he–” He starts before Evan interrupts with an equally horrified expression.

“NO, God no! He just um…”

“He ran away. We’re going after him.” I interrupt Evan. Miguel breathes out and whispers ‘fuck.’ He rubs his eyes. 

“Okay well, that’s good he’s not… what about Zoe? And Cynthia?”

“They didn’t make it.” I say, dropping my bat to touch the floor, looking at the moon that was steadily rising. It would be pitch black outside soon.

“Fuck.” Miguel repeats, his fingernails digging into his palms. Yeah, he was definitely Connor’s friend. The parallels are crazy. Evan goes to open his mouth but I smirk at both boys in front of me.

“It’s getting dark. Stay with us for the night?” I suggest. Maybe this guy could be useful to finding Connor or at the very least comfort us with an idea of safety. The more people the better.

“Me?” Miguel asks, probably unsure why I suggested it in the first place.

“You care about Connor too so as far as I’m concerned, you’re important. Now come on I want to break into a fancy rich person car.” I smile and pull a metal clothes hanger from my bag, excited to try to open it without setting off the alarm. 

Evan groans a tries to take the hanger from me, but it’s too late. I find an abandoned truck in the middle of the road and slide the piece of metal between the glass of the window and the rubber framing it.

“You’re crazy!” Evan hisses watching me do it with mounting fear and nervousness.

“Maybe so.” The door clicks open. “Maybe I’ve completely lost it.” I smile at Evan and gesture to the inside of the car.

Miguel cusses quietly getting into the car on the other side. I shove Evan into the back seats and slump down, popping open the plastic covering on the car. “What are you doing?” Miguel asks, tilting his head.

“Hotwiring it. Duh.” I fiddle with the wires and try to remember the life hack I watched.

“Jared you said you wouldn’t steal it!” Evan squeaks and I roll my eyes.

“Come on Ev, do you really want to sleep out in the open in a busted truck?”

The blond shuts up with a pout. “Fine, but if we’re stealing it I get to disinfect it.”

I pull the wires closer and touch the ends, hissing when it zaps my fingers a little bit. Come on… It works so well in the movies! I twist the metal bits together holding them with my fingers. It burns a little, but then I notice the battery wire.

“Need some help?” Miguel asks, seeming uncomfortable with how long I’m taking.

“Hold this.” I shove the two original wires in his hands and take out the battery wires, pressing them together. Electricity crackles between them and I glance up as the car starts humming lowly. The head lights are broken but that won’t be much of a problem for tonight. The gas tank however, was nearly empty.

I rev the engine a few times and then smile victoriously.

“Are you proud of yourself.” Evan asks dryly.

“ _Immensely._ ” I barely finish speaking when Miguel laughs suddenly.

“Wow, anxious Evan Hansen just sassed someone?”

The blond turns red and looks out the window when I start driving. “I’m not the same person I was a year ago.” Miguel blushes too and I frown. What exactly was their relationship?

“Oh come on Evan, don’t tell me you fucked him too?” I whine, turning the car into a Ralphs parking lot. 

“No he– Wait, too? Evan fucked?” Miguel turns in his seat to pick Evan apart with his eyes and the blond is covering his face with his hands.

“Duh,” I jerk my thumb in his direction. “He and Murphy boy are all over each other. It’s sickening.”

Any light that was held in Miguel’s eyes died and Evan looked a special kind of horrified.

“You and Connor..?” Miguel’s eyebrows pinch together and he looks at Evan with piercing eyes. Shit. This was no longer teasing. I keep my stupid mouth shut and remind myself to apologize to Evan for causing any conflict later.

“I… I’m sorry.” Evan whispers quietly, as if he had done something bad by dating someone he likes. I keep my fingers tight on the wheel and fight back arguing with Miguel. _No one fucks with people I love and Evan’s the only one I have left goddammit._

“What the fuck Evan.” Miguel chuckles, but it lacks mirth. “You knew how I felt about him and you still went after him?”

“It’s been a year. You hadn’t talked in a year.” Evan quietly reiterates. Miguel stiffens and turns to face the windshield, leaning forward to knock his head against the console of the car.

“Sorry.” Miguel breathes out after a minute and his eyes reopen. “It makes sense that he started dating again.”

Is this just a car full of people Connor’s sucked face with?

“It’s not your fault I didn’t move on like he did, sorry for yelling.” Miguel sounds bitter and I can’t blame him but this whole conversation was starting to get on my nerves.

I didn’t want romance drama and yet here I was. Right in the middle of some weird love triangle over a long haired boy who ran off to fucking Rhode island.

Then again, I hadn’t planned to lose both my parents and go off on a road trip during the worst pandemic in the history of pandemics. God’s humor is twisted, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah im weak so i added miguel
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: 5/28/19


	17. Replacement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found that not only were Connor and Evan childhood friends, but Connor met Miguel in a private school. They were not a couple, but a trio. It made me feel odd to think I might’ve been their replacement Miguel.

The sun rose slowly, peeking through the tree above the busted truck, the golden strands glinting through the windscreen. It advanced on the three sleeping boys, who were lucky to get any sleep really, and it happened to slide directly over my eyes. I rise and hold my head with a soft groan. My head hurt so bad, I haven’t gotten a migraine from sleep deprivation in forever.

Last night, I had pretended to sleep while Miguel and Evan talked about everything they missed and about Connor. I learned Connor and Miguel had a falling out over something and Connor hasn’t contacted him since. I found that not only were Connor and Evan childhood friends, but Connor met Miguel in a private school. They were not a couple, but a trio. It made me feel odd to think I might’ve been their replacement Miguel.

They talked about the illness, Evan showed Miguel our updated notes, Miguel praised us and mainly me. I didn’t really appreciate praise from someone who yelled at Evan though. Truthfully, I’m still a little bitter about what Miguel said. It doesn’t matter that they made up even a little bit.

“Evan, you awake?” Evan doesn’t respond to my question and I click my tongue. The map is resting over Evan’s sleeping form and I snatch it from him, looking over it. There’s a strange drawing next to our route labeled ‘gas station’. I fold up the map and open the door to head toward it when I hear someone clear their throat.

“Where are you going with that?” Miguel asks, half-awake and looking at me suspiciously.

“Gas station.” I respond, tapping the page. Then I realize I’m leaving the car with the map early in the morning. Miguel might be thinking I’m trying to leave them stranded. “Want to come with?” I add on, though I don’t really want to.

“Oh uh, sure.” Miguel takes hold of a necklace and I blush when I realize I had been doing the same thing.

The walk is slow and sluggish, and the sun inches up to illuminate the buildings shades of deep gold and orange. I’m surprised the sun could look so beautiful with the thick layer of air pollution that hangs in the sky.

It hits me after a minute that this is the first morning away from our homes.

“So,” I start awkwardly. “Who did you lose?” It’s clear from the way he holds himself that he’s mourning–

“I didn’t lose anyone. My family is immune.”

Everything screeches to a stop.

“Oh.” I reply dumbly, letting the expensive stones on Mama’s ring dig into my palm a little deeper. At least with Connor I had someone to relate to, someone who understood me. Now I really have no one to share my pain with.

“Yeah did you um…?”

“Yeah.” I tighten my fist around my necklace and swallow hard.

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes shine with sympathy. My steps feel heavier and I let out a deep breath.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m past it now.” I lie. My hand starts to bleed, thin rivulets of red spilling down my wrist. “Let’s just hurry back before Evan wakes up, he’s grouchy when he’s sleepy.”

Miguel nods slowly, with a strange expression on his face. More tense silence. God I _despise_ silence.

The gas station comes into view and I notice the windows are shattered into glitter-like dust, that glints and sparkles in the morning sun. The shards are so small I worry for a moment that it’ll get into my shoes somehow.

“I can get the gas if you can steal trashy snacks from the tiny store?” I ask, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Something about this place was making me uncomfortable.

“Sure.” Miguel responds almost immediately, stepping in through the gashed open window. Thank god for his lack of complaining.

I find an empty container for the gas and I press the button, frowning when nothing comes out. Motherfucker, it needs money _first_? I thought the money came after?

I look at my bat and then back at the machine. Miguel comes out just in time to see me swing the blunt end of it straight into the row of buttons and the screen.

Miguel shouts something in another language, and followed it with ‘What are you doing’ so I respond with “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Gas gushes out of the nozzle when I slam it again and it fills the container. The bad news? It spills on my pants and continues flowing out onto the sidewalk.

“Cabrón.” Miguel scolds. I only took Spanish for a year, so I only have a vague idea of what he said.

“Is that a cuss?” I ask, shaking my leg to try to dry it a bit. We start to walk again and Miguel hums after a moment.

“How did he catch on faster than Connor?” He mumbles to himself and I chose to pretend not to hear it. Once we get there, Evan is getting out of the car, looking frantic.

“Where did you go?” He asks with a weird vulnerable tone. He must’ve thought we ditched him.

“Gas.” I respond, holding up the container and gesturing to my pants.

“Did you steal it?” Evan immediately spits out, looking upset.

“Maybe.” I answer, circling the car to pop open the gas tank. Miguel hands the map to Evan and Evan thanks him, glaring at me over the flatbed of the truck.

“You can glare all you want Evvy, but Miguel and I got us at least two days of driving.”  
Evan blushes at the nickname and I grab a change of pants from my bag. Miguel and Evan stay in the car and I quickly pull off the gas covered ones, exchanging them for the clean pair. When I take my spot in the driver’s seat, Evan’s cheeks are bright red.

“What?” I ask, looking at him curiously. He wasn’t that flushed a moment ago.

“Nothing.” Evan mutters, looking outside the window. I rev the car but it doesn’t start.  
I pull the wires out, making sure they’re connected, and I frown. Everything seems to be working.

“Hey Miguel, do you have a flathead on you?” I ask, hoping to god for a yes. Miguel nods, looking completely confused, before digging into his stuffed bag and handing it to me.

I shove the flathead screwdriver in where the key should be, satisfied with the crunch and the click. I turn it harshly and it starts back up.

“How in the hell do you break everything you touch?” Miguel mutters to me, staring with an almost awed fear in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i updated this like 3 months late i couldnt figure out an ending :/
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	18. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a dick Jared.” He huffs, fixing his now rumpled clothes and rubbing his arm where he hit it on the window of the car.  
> “Gonna suck me then gay boy?”
> 
> (title from Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks [My Head Is An Animal])

“Hey Miguel, do you have a flathead on you?” I ask, hoping to god for a yes. Miguel nods, looking completely confused, before digging into his stuffed bag and handing it to me.

I shove the flathead in where the key should be, satisfied with the crunch and the click. I turn it harshly and it starts back up.

“How the hell do you break everything you touch?” Miguel mutters to me, staring with an almost awed fear in his eyes. 

“Talent and dumbassery.” I respond, reversing the car hard enough for the tires to squeak. I look in the mirror to turn the car. It protests with another squeak and I slam my hand on the joy stick, switching gears as I speed out of the parking lot. Miguel fumbles for the handle on the roof of the car and Evan slides into the window, both boys shouting for me to slow down.

“This is what you get for letting me drive!” I laugh, switching onto an almost empty freeway. Miguel smacks me on the shoulder and I slow down a bit, jokingly scolding him for hitting the driver while I do. I slow down enough for both of them to relax and Evan pouts in the backseat.

“You’re a dick Jared.” He huffs, fixing his now rumpled clothes and rubbing his arm where he hit it on the window of the car.

“Gonna suck me then gay boy?” I tease him, happy to have the opportunity. Evan turns crimson yet again and crosses his arms.

“Shut up.” His ‘angry’ response holds no anger at all really, and I only smile wider. Miguel frowns and it makes up for some of the aggression Evan lacks. Damn, I must’ve hit something sensitive. Good job Jared, you did it again!

“Do you think you’re funny?” Miguel asks me, something defensive and hurt in his eyes.

“A little yeah, do you have a problem with that?” I don’t look at him while speaking, because I’m driving and partially because I’m terrified that he’ll choke me out if I make eye contact.

“A problem? God, of course I have a problem with something so rude and blatantly homophobic.” Ah, that’s why the pain is there. Miguel must be LGBT, and this is a misunderstanding. Hopefully this will cause a laugh or two.

Evan tries to speak up to explain and I laugh over him. “So that’s what this is about?” I say with a lot more humor than I probably should. Miguel seems a lot more pained and a lot less furious.

“Dude, your gaydar sucks major ass.” I tack on at the end, swerving to avoid a stalled car in the middle of the road.

“I–” Miguel stops and looks horrified. “Oh, shit you’re–”

“Yeah,” I cut him off, not listening to Miguel’s thousands of apologies. “It’s kind of funny that gays still manage to attract each other even during a social collapse.” 

Evan and Miguel laugh, but they’re both still strained and awkward. I don’t blame them. Being in the middle of an ‘apocalypse’ isn’t exactly easy and it sure as hell isn’t funny to joke about.

“I’m hungry.” Evan complains after 15 minutes of silence and I throw a granola bar over my back. It hits Evan in the face with a loud resounding THWACK and Miguel bursts into hysterics. Which then causes Evan to genuinely laugh.

Thank god, this road trip was gonna be a drag if they stayed awkward. 

“Hey Evan, did you bring the radio?” I ask, suddenly remembering we brought the contamination tracker map. We haven’t updated it in a while. Evan nods and takes it out of his bag.

“Music?” Evan asks, clearly thinking something completely different than me. Before I can respond Evan turns on the radio, a low song mostly comprised of guitar and humming rings through the car. After it loops twice Evan starts to hum along, looking at the debris outside the window.

I smile and remind myself to ask for the maps later. Normalcy will come to us in small doses, so I take the time to relish in it.

“So.” Miguel starts semi-awkwardly, “Where did Connor run off to?”

It hits me that we never told him like a brick to the face and I wince.

“Rhode Island?” I say sheepishly, hoping the other boy doesn’t freak out. Instead he sits with a shocked look.

“Why the hell would he go _there_ of all places?” He’s completely dumbfounded and I sigh.

“There’s a person that specializes in pandemics who released a study. He thought we could cure it and well… Evan and I didn’t want to go chase after someone who might be dead now. He got angry and left after three days of ignoring us. With his car he may already be there.” I rattle off, looking strictly at the road. Don’t look at Miguel’s heartbroken eyes… don’t–

“Are you alright?” I ask, glancing toward him.

Miguel looks shattered just like the glass laying outside the gas station. “Yeah.” His voice is hollow and I bite my cheek. A simple nod and we keep driving.

Then… I hear singing. 

_Evan is singing to the music._

Miguel and I freeze, and Evan doesn’t seem to realize we’re listening to him. Evan sings a little bit louder, almost thoughtlessly, adding his own lyrics to the looping instrumental. 

My heart is nearly in my goddamn throat and I feel my cheeks heat. _God he has a really beautiful voice._

The song fades out… and a different song starts. “Awe.” Evan mutters softly, clearly upset.

“Do you want to try to find it online?” I ask, looking in the rearview mirror at him. Evan blushes, noticing the silence in the car.

“Were you listening to me?” My question is ignored due to his clear embarrassment, and I can see the red color on his cheeks spread to his neck and ears.

“It’s not my fault you can sing like an angel.” I say back, biting my lip when I notice the gas tank is already down. I ignore Evan’s sputtering and tap the gas meter. It doesn’t budge.

“We may have to stop for tonight or we’ll run out of gas and water.” I comment, trying not to crash.

Miguel nods in agreement and I stop, taking the screwdriver out with a satisfied sigh. “Think we can sleep in the flatbed of the truck?” Miguel asks, looking at it curiously.

“We could get robbed.” I counter with a frown.

Miguel casts a worried glance at me. “Clearly you have never experienced the wrath of an angry Mexican. Come on, I’ll keep watch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i have Sorta an idea for an ending but PLEASE bear with me
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	19. Oh, Simple Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He takes a drag way longer than necessary, ashes from the tip raining down on the pavement under him. A thick white cloud is blown into the sky, and at that point I realize I’m staring.
> 
> _Fuck why is everyone hot?_
> 
> I swallow hard when the other boy's lips wrap around the joint again. I check to see if Evan is as entranced as me but, no, Evan is staring into the fire with something pained in his eyes.
> 
> -
> 
> (title from Somewhere Only We Know by Keane)

The sun starts to set after we finish unpacking ‘dinner’ which comprises of gas station chip bags and canned chicken soup from Evan’s house. Miguel suggests maybe putting a mattress in the back of the truck, clearly excited at the prospect of sleeping underneath the stars. Evan responds with a weak; “Please don’t tell me we’re stealing from a mattress store next,” while he lights a fire to cook on.

“Did you learn that from your junior park ranger job, tree boy?” I joke, crouching beside him on the warmed pavement. We should be fine as long as other survivors can’t see us in the road. I did pull over, so hopefully we’ll go unnoticed.

If we are noticed… I don’t know what we’ll do. Sure, we have weapons, but we’re not exactly built for combat. We’re barely of age, and I certainly wasn’t working out in my spare time.

“Yeah I did…” Evan mumbles, not catching the joke, pulling the makeshift starter away from the clumped sticks and paper. “Do we have any cloth or fiber?”

Miguel and I think for a moment, and I shrug to myself. I grab a spare shirt from my bag, tearing it in half.

“Jared– _What the hell?_ ” Evan stutters, dropping the bow and the stick beside himself.

“I have plenty of nerd merch. Does it work?” I push it into his hands and he bites his lip.

“Maybe if it’s torn more. Then it’ll be easier to–” 

Miguel interrupts Evan by taking it from his hands and throwing it into the little campfire. Evan starts to complain about having to start it again, but the little flame roars and consumes most of the fabric. Evan pauses, looking embarrassed.

“Oh.”

Miguel leans back and sits on Evan’s other side, staring into the fire with a strange concentration. Then he pulls a white misshapen cigarette out of his bag. “You guys mind if I…?” He gestures to the thing in his hands as if it’s explanation enough.

“If you, what?” Evan replies blinking quietly. The question makes Miguel snort.

“Smoke?” Miguel finishes as if it was completely obvious. That didn’t look like a normal cigarette and I determine that it must be weed. I’ve never seen it before so I can only assume.

“I don’t mind.” I answer, and Evan mumbles an agreement. Miguel puts the end of the joint in the fire and sticks it between his lips the second it’s lit. He takes a drag way longer than necessary, ashes from the tip raining down on the pavement under him. A thick white cloud is blown into the sky, and at that point I realize I’m staring.

_Fuck why is everyone hot?_

“I miss Connor.” Evan mumbles after a few moments, pulling his mask straps tighter. He’s wearing longer gloves today, he must be anxious.

“I miss him too.” Miguel sighs out another thick ball of smoke. “It’d be a lot more fun if he was here anyway.”

“Why is that?” I ask, swallowing hard when the other boy's lips wrap around the joint again. I check to see if Evan is as entranced as me but, no, Evan is staring into the fire with something pained in his eyes.

“Well for one I wouldn’t be smoking alone.” Miguel mumbles something in Spanish, but it’s softer at the edges. Probably not a curse this time. It must be an endearment of some kind, but I don’t push to ask. I’m not curious enough to.

“You aren’t alone.” Evan says with something bright and shockingly confident in his tone.

Miguel’s eyes spark and a small smile graces his lips. “I guess not, huh?”

The fire dims to a warm glow and I lay down on the pavement below me, now cooled with the night air. 

The stars are bright, glinting in the undisturbed sky. My stomach hurts when I remember where I am and why I’m here. I dig through my bag and snatch out two tiny tea lights from the front pocket. Evan watches me curiously, still trying to heat the soup without tipping it over.

I light the candles with a small ember on a stick and Evan finally speaks up.

“Where are you going?” He asks, moving the food off the flame.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” I don’t say anything else, heading over to the front of the truck. Setting the lights down, I kneel on the freeway with my hands uncomfortably placed on top of my thighs. I don’t know where else to put them.

The candles seem to flicker and dance with each other, and I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while.” The flames offer no response. “I hope you’re okay. I hope I see you again soon.” I look up at the moon, which seems to mock me. “Connor ran away. I couldn’t let him go alone.” Another pause. I close my eyes, straining my ears for something.

Maybe Ima’s scolding or Mama asking me to stay safe. I haven’t spoken Hebrew since Ima died. My eyes well with tears when I’m met with silence.

“I wish I was a better son while you were here. I’m trying to be better.”

I start to say something again when Miguel rounds the corner, his eyes worried and sad. I fumble to cover my face to hide the few tears that had slid down my cheeks.

Miguel stays quiet and I only hear a soft thump when he comes to kneel beside me.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, looking at me sympathetically. I can’t find the words to tell him I’d rather be alone, so I don’t answer him. I grip my knees harder, my jeans folding to accommodate the motion.

Miguel notices my apprehension and he sighs. “I don’t know how you feel but…” Miguel pauses, as if wondering if he should say what he’s really thinking. “Evan and I are here for you.”

My heart starts to ache and I look down at the candles.

“Do you want me to leave?” He murmurs.

Truthfully? No. Please don’t leave me alone with myself. I can’t live like this.

I give him a soft nod and Miguel gently pats my shoulder, standing to go back to the campfire. For someone who looks so threatening and smokes weed and has a shit ton of piercings, he has an overwhelming amount of compassion. No wonder Connor loved him. 

Miguel has flaws but they definitely don’t outweigh how much he cares. We met what, two days ago? And he comforted me while I was crying? I certainly wouldn’t do something like that.

He really is something else, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i have Sorta an idea for an ending but PLEASE bear with me
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	20. Now My Riverbed is Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Rad.” Miguel doesn’t even seem to notice Evan’s fretting and suddenly takes on a quizzical look. “Do you think the aliens are watching us right now?”
> 
> Silence.
> 
> “The _what_?” 
> 
> -
> 
> (fdhfhdfdh title from mystery of love because im no longer original).

Evan is sitting by the fire anxiously when I return, his posture relaxing as he sees me approach.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” I force a smile on my face and sit down beside the blond. Miguel watches me with underlying worry. White smoke exits his mouth and curls around his head like a halo, and he drops his head back to look up at the sky. I tear my eyes away from him with a blush.

“Jared you already know.” Evan sputters, pushing a can toward me. I take it and notice the edge of the can is sharp due to how we opened them. 

“Got a spoon or am I gonna have to use the tools God gave me?” I cup my hand to make a joke and Evan smiles weakly. Miguel must’ve told him what he saw, otherwise Evan would be laughing with me right now.

“You can use mine. I don’t care.” Evan hands it to me and pulls open a dry granola bar. “I already ate my soup anyway.”

The ‘chicken’ soup is way more watery than it should be, and I start to choke it down, ignoring the fact that it’s still kind of cold. Oil lays on the surface of the ‘broth’, if you could even call it that, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Have you called your mom yet Evan?” I ask and the blond nods twice slowly. He pulls his mask up from the bottom and stuffs a piece of the granola bar in his mouth.

“She told me to give you her love.” He says around the food, trying to chew as silently as possible.

“Do I get any love?” Miguel drawls with a relaxed grin. The joint was snuffed out onto his shoe, and he was still gazing upward.

“You get love from us?” Evan blurts, his mask dropping back down to his chin with a soft snap.

“Rad.” Miguel doesn’t even seem to notice Evan’s fretting and suddenly takes on a quizzical look. “Do you think the aliens are watching us right now?”

Silence.

“The _what?_ ” 

“The aliens! You know.” Miguel gestures to the sky. “Like, do you think instead of star gazing they do people gazing?”

“You’re high.” Evan comments, crumpling his granola wrapper and stuffing it into his pocket.

“Maybe so.” He basically purrs, leaning all the way until he was laying on his back. “But I’m also very right.”

“Yeah, next you’ll be saying big foot exists–” I start, promptly being interrupted by Miguel shooting up and looking at me with a starry eyed but offended face.

“DUH! Of course, he’s real! Have you not seen the pictures?” He fumbles to pull his phone out to try to convince me of Big foot’s existence, but I think in the current state he’s in he’s damn near useless. Miguel gives up on the fruitless mission of fishing his phone out and proceeds to babble about cryptids and conspiracy theories. After a while I notice the time and sigh, cracking my neck and back before standing.

“Alright Miguel, it’s time to go night-night.” I get Evan to help me pick him up and he whines about wanting to sleep in the back of the truck. We put him in the passenger seat, so he won’t complain about his back in the morning, and when he’s comfortably sleeping, Evan gives me a weak smile.

“Good night Jared.” Before I can respond he gives me a soft kiss on the cheek, leaving me dizzy. Evan crawls into the backseat and I’m left to put out the fire and clean up our mess to prepare for tomorrow morning.

Though as I do it, I’m unable to think about anything but Evan. When had he lifted his mask? Was it completely off? I can’t even remember that much; my head is spinning.

…

I’m awake long before the sun rises if I’m being honest. I’m not sure if I actually went to sleep. All I know is; it’s day three, and someone stole all our gas from us when we were sleeping. Miguel is muttering in angry Spanish, packing up his things while Evan checked for any trash or personal belongings in the cracks and nooks of the car. And me? I’m sitting in the driver’s seat wondering how this happened.

I slept, maybe an hour. How could they have gotten past me while I was awake? How could they have done it without waking any of us up?

The solution is unfortunately clear. The outside world, as one would call it, is complete chaos. We’ve had our day and night of peace, now it was time to face reality.

“Bunch of pendejos.” Miguel scoffs to himself. “Are you ready to go, Jared?”

I nod and lift my bag onto a shoulder and pick up my bat. Evan takes out his knife and holds it at his side, closed. Miguel looks to me, then to Evan, and back to me with a wide-eyed almost humored expression.

“Man, white people are crazy.” He says, while also taking his crowbar into his hand.

The car is promptly abandoned, and I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

The walk? Silent. Almost peaceful really. It didn’t stop all three of us from being completely guarded. I think I nearly smacked Evan or Miguel with the bat at least three times because they startled me. Thankfully no one was hurt, but we also had no idea what to do.

Evan takes out the map and hums with an inquisitive look. I’m sure if you went into his head, you’d find constant thoughts going 300 mph, just by the look of his crinkled nose and tired, drooping eyes.

“I hate to say this… but we’ll need another car.” He rubs his eye with his palm, dropping the map at his side.

“You mean I get to hotwire another one?” I smirk, though it’s weak and lacks humor. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Evan grumbles, folding the map and stuffing it back into his pocket. He had memorized most of it, but sometimes it was hard to remember specific turns. We walk in the sun for hours, feeling the heat of the pavement through the soles of our shoes. I think at some point Miguel took his jacket off and just abandoned it in favor of a tank top, and Evan pulled his mask down a tiny bit so he’d breathe easier through his nose.

We don’t find a car this time. Miguel cracks open the door of an abandoned apartment, and Evan and I help push a bookcase to barricade the door. Hopefully tomorrow will be easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAZINGA MOMENT
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	21. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blond starts to panic, worrying over starving or getting kidnapped.  
> “Oh, come on Evan, like that’ll ever happen to us.” Miguel says, his amusement clear in his tone as he pat the blond’s head.

I thought it’d be impossible to get any hotter outside. Apparently, I was wrong. Very, very wrong. I felt like I was going to melt at any moment, and I’m pretty sure I’d seen the same mirage of water seven times. Mama and Ima weren’t joking when they said we were moving to a desert. It’s only April, how is it this hot?

I look up the sky instinctively, the sun piercing my eyes and giving me a headache. _I wonder how they’re doing..._

“Jared.” Evan calls out, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “I think we should rest for the day.” Miguel nods in agreement, and I realize they’re both looking to me for a decision. What made them think I should know? I’m not any more intelligent than them.

“Sure, as long as it’s safe.” I say, though it’s a mechanical, instinctive response. I’m not actually focusing on anything I’m saying. As we set up in the shade, I think of Connor and if he survived. When Evan lays down to take and nap and Miguel starts to zone out, I think about everything we left behind.

_You better be alive asshole. I’ll never forgive you if you’re not there._

The sun lowers slowly, a humid breeze breaking through the trees. It was insane how quickly the seasons changed in California. One moment, it was freezing, with rain and hints of frost, and then not long after it’s so hot even Miguel is sunburned. After a while we decide to get up, the crickets chirping softly as we walk. The hot breeze brings light bugs and the smell of blooming jasmine. Silver light from the moon bounced off us and reflected onto the ground.

It was beautiful still, even after the effects of pollution and the new modern-day plague. If you ignored the smell of smoke and death outside, if you just focused on the smell of the flowers, it seemed like everything was alright again. Like your parents weren’t dead. Like your friend hadn’t ditched you.

Eventually, the light of the moon leaves us. It’s pitch black outside and the street lights don’t seem to be working. There aren’t any cars on the street and hardly any houses or shelter. We’re truly out in the open. Evan can’t even read the map anymore, and we still haven’t eaten dinner. The blond starts to panic, worrying over starving or getting kidnapped.

“Oh, come on Evan, like that’ll ever happen to us.” Miguel says, his amusement clear in his tone as he pat the blond’s head.

…

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head; my hands being forced against the wall. Hot blood is dripping from a cut on my forehead, and I can barely hear Evan’s whimpering over the buzzing in my head. We were surrounded, and Miguel had tried to fight back. For that, all three of us were knocked out with the thick handle of a pistol. When I woke up, the earth was still spinning. I could hear Evan faintly crying next to me, and Miguel was leaning his forehead against the cold stone wall. It seemed like he’d given up at a first glance but judging by the unseen conflicted look in his eyes, he certainly hasn’t.

“Search the bags.” A man distantly barks out. I flush with anger, listening to rustling and our stuff being promptly dumped out onto the floor. I try to look, and the weapon is shoved into the soft spot on my head, slamming my already bruised forehead against the wall again. It seems like they search for ages, and I start to feel dizzy. There’s so much blood. It’s pooling on the floor in front of my knees, staining the edges of my shorts dark red.

“There’s nothing here.” Someone reports, standing up. A man hums in response but says nothing. I assume he is in charge. He walks toward us, and then I hear a scream. I can just barely turn to catch Evan being tugged up by his hair, gun pressed to his temple.

“Alright spill.” The gun clicks and Evan’s breathing goes erratic. Miguel and I stay dead still, but it doesn’t stop us from yelling at him to let Evan go. “We saw your ID… Hansen is it?”

Evan nods, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Just give it up and we’ll let you all off scot free.” The man has wild black hair, and his eyes are a bright almost animalistic green.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about–” Evan is kneed in the stomach, causing him to break off and gasp in pain. He doesn’t make much noise other than that, but silent tears slip from his eyes.

“We’re not stupid, Nurse.” The man pulls Evan over and slams the side of his face against a table. “Where are you hiding the meds? Are one of your friends carrying them? I have no problem with shooting them or you.”

“I don’t…” Evan trails off, swallowing. Blood trickles from his nose onto the table. The man pulls the gun away and shoots at Miguel. It misses an inch away from his foot, but it doesn’t stop the taller boy from jumping and cussing.

“We don’t have any medicine. That’s wh-what you want right? For the disease?” Evan’s voice is shaky and obviously scared. It doesn’t stop him from facing the man and looking him in the eyes. The man doesn’t say anything and Evan swallows. “I-I’m not a nurse. But we’re researchers. We have notes… I can copy them.”

An interested glint appears in the man’s otherwise crazy eyes.

“How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

“The journals… that’ll prove it if you look–” Evan is once again cut off by cold steel on his head and a shout.

“ _How do I know you won’t double cross us or book it when we let you go?_ ” His voice is more demanding and I notice that Evan’s hands are shaking minutely.

“S-Simple. I… I want something in return.”

A violent person would’ve shot all three of us and taken our things… a murderer wouldn’t have missed an opportunity to kill someone… a criminal wouldn’t let us live long enough to plead our case. 

_He doesn’t want to kill anyone; in fact, he’s trying desperately to avoid it._

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Evan looks at Miguel and they seem to have a silent conversation. Miguel nods and Evan makes eye contact with the man again.

“A guide and a bodyguard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it be like that sometime
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	22. Patience Like Petrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You hit him really hard, sir. He might need stitches.”  
> “Not my fault he was a slippery bastard.” The man huffs, pointedly not looking at us. He was probably pissed that he was swindled by a bunch of teenagers.
> 
> -
> 
> Title from Honey Lavender by Ieuan

“Excuse me?” The man asks, practically holding Evan’s life in his hands. “Who do you snotty kids think you are? You think I’m going to cart some toddlers around for shitty science notes?”

Each question is punctuated with a frustrated noise. It was as if he was pouting, like a child who didn’t get their way. But, he wasn’t shooting. Evan has a look on his face I’ve never seen before as he answers. “It’s mutually beneficial. You know the area, we know the disease. Who cares if we’re nineteen? We’ve been doing far better than you.”

The man lets Evan go, and then he starts to laugh. “Some researchers you are! What could a nineteen year old know that I don’t already?” 

Evan pulls his mask down, smearing blood from his nose down to his bottom lip and chin. Then, he smiles. It’s proud and it’s absolutely blinding. “You’d be surprised, sir.” Evan’s hands aren’t shaking anymore. He knows he’s won.

“God it makes me sick just looking at you, bunch of–” The rest of what he says is unintelligible and he makes a motion with his hand. The pressure of the gun finally leaves and I slump against the wall. Footsteps retreat, and we’re left alone in this room with the man. His feet are kicked up onto the desk and he seems to be pouting.

I shut my eyes and breathe in deeply. I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath this whole time. My lungs sting and I can taste something metallic and thick at the back of my throat. I want to spit it out but I don’t have the strength to.

“Jared,” Evan touches my shoulder and pulls me up. “Are you okay?” He turns my face toward him and his eyebrows pinch together in worry. I try to smile to reassure him but it hurts to do so.

Evan pulls a cloth from his pocket and wipes my forehead. I lean into the gentle touch with a soft sigh. “You hit him really hard, sir. He might need stitches.”

“Not my fault he was a slippery bastard.” The man huffs, pointedly not looking at us. He was probably pissed that he was swindled by a bunch of teenagers.

It takes me a few moments to realize Miguel was standing beside Evan. I blink, trying to focus my eyes to take in Miguel’s condition. He seemed mostly fine, no gashes. He had a few bruises and some treatable cuts, but otherwise–

“Jared,” Evan holds the cloth tighter against my head and frowns. Miguel is the one to pipe up this time.

“Do you have a bed, sir?” He asks, taking on the title Evan so lovingly gave the older man. If I wasn’t so dizzy I’d laugh. 

“Like hell I’m giving up one of my beds to you assholes. You’re lucky you’re alive at all.” He stomps out like a petulant child, slamming the door behind him. Evan helps me sit on the table his face was previously ground against and he cracks open one of our water bottles, dampening the cloth with it.

He scrubs carefully until the blood is gone, and thankfully Miguel has some old gauze sitting at the bottom of his bag. I can’t do anything but sit and watch. They were both looking to me for direction and now I’m nothing but a useless victim. _Why did I ever think I could do this? Of course, I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but we wouldn’t have had to do this at all if… if Connor hadn’t…_

“Hey, hey,” Miguel hisses softly, lifting my head up with a hand on my cheek. When had I started leaning over like that? “Don’t sleep yet, okay? We need to check if you have a concussion.”

“I’m not a doctor Mig!” Evan whines, back to his anxious muttering self.

“Wikihow it.” He suggests, as if that wasn’t the stupidest idea on the planet. Miguel’s smile is infectious, and I can’t help but chuckle to myself.

“Oh god, he’s laughing. W-What if he goes into hysterics–” Evan is mumbling and pulling at his hair. Miguel gives me a once over.

“Jared, how do you spell your name?” He asks, clearly trying to test me for brain damage. I respond and he asks me a few more questions. Like who he is, who Evan is, what Evan’s favorite color is, what color the ceiling is– basic stuff. After looking me in the eyes again Miguel shrugs.

“Seems fine and sane to me. I think we should let him rest.” I get a solid pat on the shoulder and Evan helps me lay down on the ground. He pulls my jacket over me and starts to gather up our things and put them away.

“Are you both okay though…?” I ask, my voice rough with disuse. Miguel smiles and ruffles my hair.

“Hush now, sweet prince.” His tone is borderline mocking and I roll my eyes the best I can.

I let my eyelids drop, but Evan and Miguel talk long into the night.

“ _You know, I’m pleasantly surprised. He has a lot more compassion than he lets on._ ”

“ _Yeah… I was shocked too..._ ”

…

The only person we can trust is a ridiculously childish con man. God did it have to make matters worse that he also happened to be annoying as hell. At five AM we were woken up by loud banging and told to hurry up because we’re ‘losing daylight.’ My head was still fuzzy. It was horrible once it started heating up outside, and the man barely spoke to us.

He just sped walked and laughed to himself. Evan asked if we could stop and he sneered before making a half assed excuse. I just hoped I wouldn’t pass out, or worse. It was clear that this guy wasn’t going to protect us as truthfully as he claims. Him pulling us out far too early is clear evidence of that.

“Is there any–” Miguel begins, and is promptly shoved with a whole hand over his face.

“I’m gonna stop you right there kid. I don’t need to tell you anything.” He says with a bit too much venom in his voice. He shoves his hands into his pockets and keeps his head held high in the air. After a while, I notice Miguel is copying his movements. How he walks, how he shoots, how he holds himself.

The message is simple;

Watch and learn. Take his tactics if he won’t just hand them over. End of story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update today folks
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	23. This Demon Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A careful sketch of an infected’s corpse was penned into the margins of the notebook. I tried not to look as he did it, feeling nauseous remembering how the corpse smelled and looked as we passed it.  
> “Don’t be a pussy. This won’t be the last one you see.” That man had shouted at me, tugging me along roughly by the arm. Somehow, that sounded like a threat.
> 
> -
> 
> UHHHH lyric from Jekyll and Hyde - Confrontation

At first, I thought Evan’s joke about this being apocalyptic was funny. I guess I’m starting to see how right he was, because it’s just not fucking funny anymore. Course, there aren’t any zombies. We have come across some very sick people though. People wandering, their skin scratched to the bone, their faces so deformed and caved in it was hard to believe they were human to begin with.

We came across one of them inevitably, their sunken eyes targeting Evan. The man, who refused to give us his name, looked almost angry. Disgusted, in fact. It only took one shot in the head for the ‘person’ to go down, their body inches away from Evan, who stood frozen solid in the middle of the street.

“Walk, we don’t have time to zone out.” The man hissed with distain, before giving Evan a solid smack on the back of his head. Evan started walking immediately, his fingers gently rubbing the sore spot, where a bruise would undoubtably bloom. It wasn’t the first time the man had been physical with us since we made our pact, but something about him was strange. Miguel didn’t seem to trust him that much, which shocked me because the taller boy was the most trusting out of any of us.

He kept watching him warily, something dark in his eyes as he did. Most of the time, Miguel’s energy was used keeping the man away from Evan and I (mainly Evan), which I appreciated.

There was a dangerous edge to him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. When I voiced this late at night, the man finally being asleep, Evan scoffed.

“Oh please.” He huffed, unamused. “That guy doesn’t want to hurt us.”

I gesture to the cut on my forehead, still hardly healing. Evan blushes and sputters a little bit.

“W-Well, I, I mean like _seriously_ hurt us, y’know?” He practically floundered for his words. Evan was certainly a specimen. All worried about being attacked, and then when it really happened, he was the calmest person on the planet.

“No actually, I don’t know, wanna clue us in?” Miguel had a teasing smirk on his face as he lit another joint that he seemed to have a never-ending supply of.

“He’s not going to kill us, guys. He doesn’t seem like… that dangerous.” Evan was looking at the man, as if he was seeing something we couldn’t or wouldn’t.

“He nearly shot Miguel in the leg.” I drawl, loosening my shirt collar and adjusting the bandages around my arms. It was far too hot to have a fire.

“But he didn’t.” Evan pouts, his eyes cold and serious. “He could’ve, but he didn’t.” Evan starts to ramble about the man’s obvious skill, pin pointing certain moments when he was incredibly accurate with a gun. He concluded with the thought that maybe the man hadn’t hit Miguel because he in fact, didn’t want to, to begin with, but Miguel wasn’t so sure.

“Let me ask you something. Why are you defending an actual murderer?” Miguel didn’t seem that pissed, but there was something calculating in his normally warm and inviting brown eyes. 

“He seems…” Evan trails off again, picking at his own bandages. They were stained with grass and dried blood. Somehow it was fitting.

“What, Evan?” Miguel exhales a thick cloud of smoke, and I refrain from making a fatty ghost joke. The boy’s eyebrows are pinched together, and I nearly jump at the realization that he’s getting frustrated.

“He seems scared.” Evan whispers, like he was anxious to say it. Miguel chokes on his next inhale, but he manages to hold it long enough to giggle.

“God you’re fucking crazy, Ev.”

The blond stiffens up at being called crazy, but he doesn’t seem to want to make a deal out of it. If it was me, I’d be furious, considering how loaded that word is, but I don’t say anything. Morning comes sooner than any of us want, and the man gets up and easily packs up his sparse belongings. Already he’s yelling at us to get going, and I begrudgedly pack up my shit.

“Hey Mig, have any of that joint left?”

At least that gets a laugh.

…

April ends a lot quicker than we hoped for, a week into the trip with him. So far, we’ve been relatively on course, but Miguel still doesn’t trust him. Thankfully we haven’t run into many infected as they don’t seem to travel in groups, but that man talks about them enough to freak us out. He showed us a scar on his abdomen, it was long and jagged.

With a grin on his face, he told us he got it from one of them. Supposedly they killed the rest of his original group, leaving him with only a scar. “They were weak.” He scoffed; his eyes narrowed to thin slits of green. “If you’re not careful you’ll end up just like them.”

“Sir if you don’t mind me asking, why do you have a group now… If you think they’re weak?” Evan gestures to the large number of people, the man’s lackeys. The man scoffed again, running a hand through his hair, not trying to hide his look of disgust.

“I don’t care about them, and they don’t care about me. Doesn’t matter if there are people around, you can still work alone.” His words were so bitter that it was palpable. Evan falls silent and goes back to updating his research notes with some of our help. Even that man gave us some off handed comments occasionally. 

The infected supposedly lose the part of their mind that limits them and how much their body can take. “Drives them down into the ground, till all that’s left of them is bone.”

Miguel visibly shuddered at his remark, and I think all three of us silently remembered the first one. They had ripped the skin from their fingers and face, and if that man hadn’t shot them, Evan would’ve been torn to shreds. Evan quickly journals everything the man happened to share, which was a surprise to absolutely no one.

Mania and possible Dementia was added to the list of symptoms, and a careful sketch of an infected’s corpse was penned into the margins of the notebook. I tried not to look as he did it, feeling nauseous remembering how the corpse smelled and looked as we passed it.

“Don’t be a pussy. This won’t be the last one you see.” That man had shouted at me, tugging me along roughly by the arm. My chest tightened and I swallowed nervously. Somehow, that sounded like a threat. One glance to Miguel told me he was thinking the same thing. Evan adjusted his mask on his face nervously, holding himself a little more defensively than usual.

“So, what the hell is up with that mask.” The man asked bluntly over ‘dinner,’ “You sick or something?”

Evan shook his head no wildly with wide eyes. “No, I um, I had a small strain of the illness when I was young. Like a vaccine.”

The man looked a little surprised, and then grumbled around some gas station chips. “Keep telling yourself that. Let’s hope you die before the mania stage, kid.”

Evan stiffened again, and I could see a furious blush coloring his face. Miguel and I couldn’t really do much to calm him down before he stood abruptly.

“I hope I die too. I’m going to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it be like that sometime
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	24. My Heart, At Your Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Were you always like this? Is this why the rest of your group abandoned you?” Miguel asks, stopping the man physically in his tracks.
> 
> -
> 
> title by me, i know wild sometimes im actually original lmao

Evan stiffened again, and I could see a furious blush coloring his face. Miguel and I couldn’t really do much to calm him down before he stood abruptly.

“I hope I die too. I’m going to bed.”

The man doesn’t look upset with himself. In fact, he smirks and rolls his eyes like Evan was the one spouting ridiculous shit.

“You’re an asshole.” That’s it. That’s all I say to him. I choke down everything else trying to escape my mouth. We don’t need our only protection ditching us in the middle of nowhere because of something I said.

“Yeah? Get used to it.” The man pours the rest of the chips down his throat and stands as well, dusting the crumbs off his body. As he’s walking away, Miguel stares at his back with something unidentifiable in his eyes.

“Were you always like this? Is this why the rest of your group abandoned you?” Miguel asks, stopping the man physically in his tracks. He straightens his spine, and I notice how tall and muscled he is compared to us. I remember how skilled with a gun he is and how much older he is than us. Nearly 36, with a body that could rival a soldier’s; Miguel and I would be dead in an instant.

“What the fuck do you know about me?” He turns sharply, fisting his hand in Miguel’s shirt, pulling the boy off the floor. I can’t do anything but watch as he screams in his face. “You keep your shitty opinions to yourself or you’ll wind up dead.”

The man grits his teeth and stares at Miguel with a gaze I can only describe as hostile. He drops him to the ground flippantly and Miguel goes quiet. He’s withdrawn into himself as much as possible, and like the shitty friend I am, I finally step in when he’s hit rock bottom.

With a gentle hand, I lead him back over to where we’re sleeping. He goes without a single complaint.

“Are you alright?” I ask, herding him to stand near his sleeping bag. Miguel stays silent, and I watch with a fascinated horror as a grin slowly stretches across his face.

“Evan was right.” In his hands, Miguel held the answer. “ _He was scared_.” Or so he thought anyway.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I didn’t see anything but fury and maybe sadness in that man’s eyes. When I glance over to look at Miguel, I chose to not share my opinion. Thankfully the other boy kept talking.

“Did you see that? God, I wonder what he did that made them all ditch him.” Miguel is taken over by something briefly. “It’s not a surprise that he’s like this after being alone for god knows how long…”

Miguel’s eyes trail over to Evan and he sighs. “We… should probably go to bed.”

“Yeah.” I agree dumbly, not sure how to react to Miguel’s shift in tone. The boy smiles, and he pats my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. There’s normal, compassionate Miguel again. I don’t know who I just met but they’re incredibly protective of Evan. And not of me. Go figure.

“Are you gonna…?” Miguel takes out a lighter and I catch on. Crossing my arms over my chest and stepping back, I nod. The other boy smiles at me again, tells me goodnight, and gets into bed.

Taking the candles out of the front pocket in my bag–

I pause. Only one candle rests in my hand. Frantically, I dump the contents of my backpack out. No candle. Not even a single match either. But who could’ve…? Why would they have taken it?

I must’ve won the international lottery for bad luck when I was born.

My fingers start to shake uncontrollably, and I find myself unable to breathe. It always went this way.

_Pathetic… How could anyone rely on someone like you?_

Hazy eyes sweep over the sleeping people in the clearing, on the guards, on Evan. They stay on the blond, shifting when he does in his sleep.

_How am I supposed to reassure him everything is okay when I can’t breathe?_

_Fuck okay, focus Jared. You need to calm down._

Looking up to the moon, I notice it’s full. It’s bright light paints everything below in silvery hues, it’s face gazing down on us protectively.

Blood fills my mouth. I cough roughly, red droplets fall to the earth like little flower petals. The red on my skin mocks me even as I wipe it away with trembling hands. I clear my throat, and more blood bubbles up, choking me. I cough until I’m on my knees, gazing at a moon that was once beautiful and now seemed so menacing.

Unblinking. Watching me as I choke beneath it like a helpless dying animal.

Once I feel dizzy, I start to wonder what this is from. I’ve never coughed up blood during a normal panic attack. Am I dying? Why? Am I sick…?

No… I haven’t been drinking the water. I can’t be sick. How else could I have gotten it if I didn’t drink it?

Two white dots appear above me and I fall back when I realize they’re eyes. Actual, real eyes, not hallucinated moon ones. I don’t know if I should be relieved.

“So, it was you huh?” The man is towering over me, his head cocked to the side curiously. He was waiting to pounce with a gleam in his eyes. “How does it feel?”

Before I can answer him, I throw up. Red stains my shirt and there’s too much there’s way too much for me to be healthy– there’s so fucking much what’s wrong with me?

“That’s how I’ve felt for nearly two years.” His jaw is tight, and I choke again, trying to think clearly. What is he talking about? 

“I wonder…” His eyes pierce mine coldly. “ _Who out of you will lose their will when they see the other dead?_ ”

A cold hand takes ahold of my cheeks and I feel my eyes slipping shut despite the screaming in my head. “Maybe mask boy? You both seem very protective of him. Why is that? Is it because he’s weak?”

I shake my head to the best of my ability and the man sighs. He takes a shot from his belt and stabs it into my arm. The pain is nearly blinding, and I feel the remaining blood seep from my mouth and splatter to the floor. 

He must be putting me out of my misery. So much for not wanting to kill people. I grab the man’s arm, wheezing painfully. “You take Evan and Miguel to Rhode Island if it’s the last thing you do.”

Curiosity sparks in the man’s eyes and black floods my vision, succumbing to the peaceful numbness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream at me
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


	25. Those Aren't Meant To Bend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a smart one. No wonder he decided to bring you along last minute. Could probably tell.”  
> “I knew you planned this.”  
> “Congratulations, you want a fucking medal?”
> 
> -
> 
> chapter title from oh klahoma by jack stauber because IM TIRED.

I hate him. His words keep bouncing around in my head, keeping me awake. Miguel and Jared are probably completely knocked out considering I went to ‘bed’ before them. Which means there’s no one to talk to and there aren’t any distractions from my head. The guards constantly posted around us certainly don’t make matters any better… staring down at us to make sure we’re sleeping, taking shifts and such. Though they aren’t very enthusiastic about keeping us safe. I haven’t seen anyone but the man draw his gun.

If I were to estimate there’d be about ten… maybe fifteen people in the group. Their reasons for following his orders are completely unknown to us, other than the short ‘we don’t give two shits about each other’ speech that the man exaggerated. Certainly, he must care about some of them, to some degree. After all, he’s only human. He hasn’t gotten that apathetic right?

I sit up in my sleeping bag and rub my eyes, digging the crust out of them. A person standing near me turns to me in surprise, but I’ve gotten so used to their presence that I couldn’t care less. After trying to clear my throat a couple times, I decide I should probably drink some water or maybe juice. Maybe I should spite the man and drink from the river to get horribly sick. He’d certainly care then… asshole.

He would go to jail if the government was still intact. Messing with an already suicidal kid and telling them to die… brilliant idea.

I sit up and run my hands through my hair, bringing the longer strands back over to the right side and combing my fingers through the slightly shaved sides. It’s only been a few weeks, but already my hair is growing in and getting a little unmanageable. I’ll have to get Miguel to cut it for me, knowing Jared’s history with sharp objects.

Seeing those thin red lines on his arms made me feel so sick. I had no idea he was hurting, and I’d seen them even before his parents had died. He thinks he must be someone untouchable or cool to be respected, but deep-down Jared is just as flawed as any of us. He tries to be nonchalant; oblivious to the fact that all of us could see through him like a pane of glass.

Speaking of Jared…

I stand and look across the clearing. One, two… no, just one sleeping person. Upon further inspection, I find that it’s Miguel. Jared’s backpack is cleaned out and my heart drops to my stomach. Did he really ditch us after all this time?

And where is the man? Did he notice Jared was gone and figured he’d go after him?

Shocks of fear roll up my arms and turn my body into a livewire. **Where are they?** The thoughts get louder and louder until I notice two shuffled foot print trails. One was clearly more frantic, and the other was steady, larger, and seemed fresher. Was Jared upset about something?

Did him and the man get into an argument? What if–

My own derailing thoughts are abruptly cut by a choking noise. I follow the tracks, coming to a separate clearing where–

_Where Jared was getting stabbed in the arm by the man._ Thick red blood splatters to the floor and I can’t see Jared with the man standing in front of him and I don’t know when I started running but the man turns around and I deck him in the face. My hand starts to tingle violently, and I clutch it to my chest while the man cusses.

“What the fuck was that for?” He growls, eyes glinting in the moonlight. I raise my hand to hit him again, but he grabs my fist and squeezes so hard and so tight and it’s too warm and– Something pops.

He lets go and spits a tooth onto the ground. “That’s your punishment. Was an adult tooth you know.”

In a last effort I shove him away and I don’t know what I’m shouting at him but it’s not friendly. The man finally backs off and I cup Jared’s cheeks. His body is limp, and I fight back the tears burning in my eyes. My hand is stinging now, but I ignore it to rub the tear trails on Jared’s cheek away.

“Why why why, we were so fucking close,” I know I’m babbling but I can’t bring myself to stop. Jared’s forehead is cold against mine and I finally let go to sob. It’s ugly and the tears smear onto my mask and I can’t breathe but Jared’s– he’s– I can’t fucking _breathe._

“He’s a good kid.”

I resist the urge to clench my hands into fists, “What the fuck did you just say to me?” I stare up into his eyes, hating the cold look in them. The man refuses to say anything, and then I hear another voice. Miguel is awake and he’s staring into the clearing with wide eyes. Just as he begins to shout, the man cuts him off.

“You know he’s not dead, right?”

I stop and Miguel’s voice dies. I shift my hand down to his neck and feel a small but somewhat steady pulse. “But… the blood.”

“He’s sick.” The man says flippantly, pointedly not looking at either of us. Miguel swallows and helps me get Jared up. Jared is sick? He hasn’t displayed any of the symptoms… are there different strains? Perhaps it isn’t passed through the water like we thought.

Which means Connor might be in danger. And it also means we need to get to Rhode Island a lot faster.

“Look if we pull three or so all-nighters… Maybe get a car,” The man is mumbling to himself before pulling out a phone. Within seconds one of his group is standing in front of us. “Find a car and hotwire it. I don’t care how you do it.”

True to the man’s word, the other person looks downright bored, scoffs, and leaves like it’s the biggest inconvenience on the planet.

Despite getting us a car, Miguel is studying the man with careful eyes.

“How long have you been poisoning him, sir?”

The man stops and I stare at him. Poisoning him? I look at Miguel, trying to mentally ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but the other boy doesn’t look at me.

“You’re a smart one. No wonder he decided to bring you along last minute. Could probably tell.” The man deflects, running a hand through his hair.

“I knew you planned this.”

“Congratulations, you want a fucking medal?”

Miguel grits his teeth and I hold Jared a little closer to me. I think he’s finally realized there’s nothing he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you relieved or have I infuriated you more?
> 
> Follow me on tik tok lmao.  
> Tumblrtok: @holybeecoconut
> 
> Next Chapter: who the fuck knows


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